A Tale of Two Wizards
by paperrcranes
Summary: Ilvermorny and Hogwarts Schools of Witchcraft and Wizardry have orbited around each other for centuries, educating some of the greatest minds, but not quite meeting with one another. However, an unlikely event causes the two schools to converge in an extraordinary fashion. Find out what happens to the Wizarding World in A Tale of Two Wizards!
1. A Magical Beginning

_Author's Note: All characters and settings belong to Ms. J.K. Rowling._

I

Victoire

Platform 9 ¾ bustled with the unmistakable feeling of new beginnings. The scarlet train pumped out smoke and blew its horn, warning Hogwarts students that the train was soon to depart. Students, old and new, packed their belongings onto the Hogwarts Express, and Victoire finished pushing her trunk in her usual train compartment. She jumped onto the platform, wiping her palms on the muggle sweater that she wore. The distinct scent of fresh ink and new robes suddenly hit her, and she closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the last time she would ever be here. Behind her, students yelled and shouted, so she jumped off the train to rejoin her family.

"Vicky!" Teddy Lupin appeared in the crowd, his distinctive azure hair sticking up all over the place. He was wearing a pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt with the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes logo on the front. He planted a quick kiss on Victoire's lips, which only made her worry even more about their separation. His particularly dangerous career as an Auror came to mind, but she tried her hardest to discard those feelings. "Ready?"

"I suppose." The Potter family came, Harry and Ginny pushing their three kids forward. The whole family had worn muggle clothes for the occasion. James, Albus, and Lily were pulling their trunks and animals along, staring up at the smoke rising from the red train as they whispered excitedly to each other.

Victoire kissed Ginny on the cheek and gave Harry a hug. Despite the age difference of her father and her aunt, she has always been very close to the Potters. Ginny often came around Shell Cottage to have tea with Mum and Dad, and Victoire had attended dinner with Teddy and the Potters on several occasions. "Lily, are you ready for your first year?" Teddy ruffled her bright red hair as she looked up and grins.

"Yup." She replied in a falsely confident voice, looking up at her mother, who placed a calming hand on her shoulder. Victoire noticed that James had started wearing glasses like his father, and his hair had become even messier than Teddy's, which was a feat all on its own.

"How've you been, Victoire?" Ginny asked kindly. "I heard you made Head Girl!"

"Yes, that's me." She pulled the badge out of her pocket, not yet ready to put it on and acknowledge the responsibility. "I didn't think it would be me, honestly. I swear I've broken more school rules than I care to count." She sneaked a look at Teddy, who she knew was remembering a particularly fateful evening when the two of them had snuck out to meet up near Hagrid's hut, and he had caught the two of them wandering about the grounds at two in the morning.

"Well, at least you're not like Percy was." Ginny said, looking at Harry, who stifled a laugh. "He was positively irritating that summer, don't you remember, Harry?"

"Oh, I remember." The two of them shook with laughter at the thought of Uncle Percy, who, conveniently, wasn't here. Victoire grabbed Teddy's hand, squeezing it too hard.

"I've got to go. Come on, Albus!" James saw one of his friends, then pulled his brother along with him. They melted into the crowd of students, who milled around as they waited for the train to leave. Some were playing with items from the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes back-to-school collection, while parents were trying to avoid getting hit in the face by a particularly vicious Fanged Frisbee. Victoire checked the time, stunned that only ten minutes remain until the train leaves. _Only ten more minutes with Teddy_ _until Christmas_ _Break. Stars, it's going to be rough._

"Teddy, I notice you haven't been 'round for tea lately!" Harry replied, clasping his shoulder. "You should come, I could help you get through Auror training. Invite your dearest grandmother too, I'm sure she'll want to visit."

"Cheers, Harry, I'll do that. Though, if we're discussing Auror business, it better be out of her earshot. She gets worried about my training, you know?" He replied, grinning from ear to ear.

" _Ma chère_." Fleur glided into the conversation, accompanied by Bill, Dominique, and Louis Weasley, kissing Ginny and Harry on their cheeks. "It eez so wonderful to be back here, and for Victoire's last year, too!"

"Thanks, Mum." Victoire muttered, as her mother gave Teddy a kiss on the cheek and a light hug.

"Teddy." Bill clapped him on the back, as Dominique and Louis disappeared in the crowd to put their trunks on the train. "How's Auror training?"

"It's going well." Teddy affirmed, nodding to the group. _Eight minutes_. "Very challenging, but my mother did pass along a little gift to help get me through the 'Concealment and Disguise' portion of the upcoming examination." Victoire watched the adults look at the ground, remembering Teddy's mother in a way she never could. Though, from all the stories Ginny had told her, she suddenly felt a strange sense of sorrow that she never got to meet the woman, who had, apparently, passed on her best characteristics to her only son. Victoire squeezed Teddy's hand, and he leaned over to whisper, "I've got something for you."

"What is it?" She whispered back, but the adults had finished their silent mourning session, which left Teddy with no way to respond discreetly.

Another horn loudly announced that the train was very nearly ready to depart, and parents hurried to put their kids on the train. "You'd better put your stuff in a carriage." Ginny said to her children. "Or you'll have to sit with some idiot."

"Ginny, you mustn't say such things. That's exactly how I met Harry." Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger joined the crowd, their two kids in tow. The four of them look hassled, as though they had been through a terrible ordeal. Rose and Hugo look exhausted, their pale cheeks flushed the color of their bright hair. Out of all the Weasleys, Rose and Hugo look the most alike. As usual, little Rosie already had her robes on, and she was carrying several books in her hand. She flashed Victoire a bright smile, as does Hugo, though he had a terrified look on his face.

"You're an idiot, Ronald." Ginny replied coolly, which gets Hermione, Harry, Fleur, and Bill to snort.

"Let's get the kids on the train, shall we?" Bill intervened, stopping a row between the two siblings. "Vic, if you would?" Victoire reluctantly let go of Teddy's hand and took Lily's trunk instead. She carried it onto the Hogwarts Express and put it in an empty compartment.

"What if nobody will sit with me?" The girl wondered as she peers into the rather old compartment. A strange stain covered one of the seats, and someone had left a worn photograph of two girls laughing as they had sat in the Three Broomsticks. Victoire snuck a look at Lily's scared and pale face. The Potters' only daughter had inherited the flaming hair that her mother and the original Lily Potters had both possessed. In the eleven years that Victoire had known the girl, she had always had a certain fascination for practical jokes and pranks, which had made Uncle George endlessly overjoyed. However, in all the eleven years that she had known Lily Luna Potter, she had never seen her looking as terrified as she does right now. "What if I'm all alone? No, what if I don't get sorted into Gryffindor?"

"Then, you don't get sorted into Gryffindor." Victoire explained, pushing the girl's trunk up to the rack. "Lily, you're just worrying. Teddy's not in Gryffindor, and we love him all the same. Your brother had the same fears last year. Don't worry about it."

"Easy for you to say. You're in Gryffindor." Lily replied in a low voice, which was so different that her usually bright tone. "Lily." Victoire says, facing the girl. "Nobody in this family is going to love you any less if you're not in Gryffindor. Hogwarts isn't about what house you're going to be in. It's about learning to appreciate different qualities in every individual and learning to respect them." Those sentences may have come right out of her Head Girl introduction letter, but it certainly placated the girl.

"Alright." The girl straightened out the her olive-colored jumper and followed her cousin off the train. She ruffled Lily's bright red hair as they both rejoined the group.

"Listen, Lily, if you ever need any help, any at all, come find me, alright?" Lily smiled up at her cousin, then rejoined her brothers, who had also put their trunks in their compartments. Ginny and Harry hugged each of their children. Victoire said _au revoir_ to her own mother and father, then walked over to Teddy, who took both of her hands.

"Vic, promise me you'll write back." He said to her in a low voice, his eyes flashing to the clock on the wall.

 _Two minutes_.

"You know me, Teddy. I'll write to you, even more than last year, I promise." Victoire hated this feeling. It was like water slipping through her fingers. Teddy was always going to be there, she knew that, but there was a little part of her that felt like Teddy slipped away each time she left. "I promise."

"Here." His voice cracked as he pulled out a messily wrapped gift in the shape of a small book. "You're a genius, Vic, so I thought you would like this. Read carefully."

 _One minute_.

"Victoire!" A couple of her friends called to her from the train, but she did not acknowledge them at first.

"Go, Victoire. I'll see you soon!" He kissed her, then gently pushed her towards the train. Victoire jumped on, joining her friends, but turned back to her boyfriend. He waved at her from where the rest of her family was standing. He became smaller and smaller, until all she could see was a blue dot in the distance. Tears threatened to run down her face, but Victoire used sheer willpower to prevent them. The last thing anybody wanted to see was the Head Girl bawling her eyes out.

"Vic, come on!" Siobhan Mór called to her as she leaned out of her compartment into the corridor, where students were milling about. Her messy black hair swung past the shoulders of her pale pink t-shirt. Siobhan had always been fascinated by muggles, and she tended to take on muggle clothes, unless they were in school robes. Victoire saw Lily talking to a couple of other first years in her compartment, and the Head Girl's heart warmed a little. "You can do your Head Girl duties later."

"You're a bad influence, S." Victoire replieed, pulling her blonde hair into a ponytail. "I"ll come by in a bit." She walked into another corridor, where the other Head Boys and Head Girls were talking to each other. Markus Palomer, the Gryffindor Head Boy, walked towards her. He had these horn-rimmed glasses that he had worn since first year and jet black hair that always managed to stay in its place. His nose sloped down, making it easy for his glasses to slide down his sharp, angled face. Markus was tall and lean, and he was always moving and fidgeting. His badge was already fastened onto the front of his jumper.

"Markus, hello, how are you?" Victoire asked out of a need to be polite and an interest in keeping on good terms with the other Head of her house.

"I'm quite good, how was your summer?" Markus pushed his glasses up his nose and bounced on the balls of his trainers.

"Nice. I went to France. You?" She looked around at the corridor and found herself faced with hundreds of students wandering through the corridors.

"I stayed with my muggle aunt in America for a bit. She was nice, if not a bit ignorant about the Wizarding World." Markus replied, running his fingers against each other. "Did you know they call American muggles no-majs?"

"I did not." Victoire replied. She placed her hand in her pocket and fished for her badge. _Might as well put it on._ "That's intriguing."

"I did learn loads about North American wizardry. Did you know. . ." He trailed off into a series of muttered phrases that Victoire had trouble understanding. She saw one of the Slytherin heads wandering down the corridor, and she decided that she could probably sit down with her friends for a bit.

"You know, Markus, I'm just going to go down there, okay?" He nodded, obviously lost in thought, and Victoire headed down to her friends' carriage. They'd had the same one for several years now, the compartment that hid itself near the exit of the train. The inside was just like all the other compartments on the train, but somehow, it felt a lot like going home. The mysterious stain on the floor and the dents in the wall seemed like just another dusty corridor of Hogwarts by now.

"Hello!" Victoire stuck her head into the compartment, where Siobhan and Eli were waiting. The former was fiddling with a deck of Exploding Snap, while the latter was stacking up a set of brand new schoolbooks on the seat next to him.

"Vicky." Eli said, as a means of greeting as he opened up a book. His glasses were similar to Markus's, and his dark, curly hair flopped over his cocoa-colored skin. In all the time Victoire had known him, he was always calm and collected, his emotions always in check. He had never been one for loud gestures, but Siobhan very much was. She bursted out of her seat, apparently knocking over the wrong card in her deck, and a loud explosion ensued. "S?"

"Fine." She replied weakly, shielding herself from the blast. Her t-shirt and black hair were still smoking, but other than that, the three of them were unhurt. "Just fine." She cleaned up the deck, being very careful this time. A couple of Slytherins who passed by them snickered in response, and she made a rude gesture with her hand.

"S, please don't get into fights before we reach school grounds." Eli barely moved from his seat as he scolded her, and Victoire wondered if he would have made a better Head of House as she looked at him flip through one of their school books. He was still wearing his muggle clothes, a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. His muggle parents owned a bookshop in London, which Siobhan often said was to blame for his obsession with books ("Eli! How can you spend so much time in the library at school, then go home and live in a bookstore?). "Victoire, what's that?" He pointed to the poorly wrapped bundle in her hands.

"Teddy gave it to me."

"Mate, why can't we meet Teddy?" Siobhan whined as she gingerly puts the Exploding Snap cards in her bag. "You've been dating him for two years, and I've seen him once." Victoire flashed her a mysterious smile, and opened up the package. As per usual, Teddy hadn't paid much attention to detail, and the package basically unwrapped itself. She brushed aside the paper to reveal a small, brown book with gold embossed words covering the front and a letter closed with a wax seal. The book looked old but well-preserved, and it lookde right up Eli's alley.

"Magic in North America?" She read, running her fingers over the cover.

"No way." Eli leaned over and flipped up the front cover. Victoire grabbed the letter, ripping open the seal. Curved, messy handwriting covered the page, and little drawings cover the spaces that were not covered with words. _Teddy's handwriting._

 _My darling Victoire,_

 _So, I was at Harry's this past weekend because he wanted to show me some pictures of his parents and my parents, and I stumbled across this in his bookshelf. He didn't seem to want it, so I just grabbed it. It looks silly and like a schoolbook, I know, but I thought you would appreciate it, since you're always reading._

 _If I'm being honest, that isn't the only reason that I wanted you to have this. I have this wizarding penpal in America that I have (for some strange reason) and Rhys's always droning on about the history of magic there. I thought you might want to read up. I've heard loads about American wizarding sites._

 _With love,_

 _Teddy_

On one side of the letter, he had drawn two figures, Victoire and himself, pointing their wands at a giant squid that looked remarkably like the one in the lake at Hogwarts.

"Your boyfriend is amazing, Vic." Eli leaned over to look at the book, his face in awe. Victoire's thoughts echoed the same sentiments. She ran through the pages, letting her hands stop on a painting of what appeared to be three ships sailing through the ocean. The following page tracked a ship from Europe to America, and the latter was titled _The New World_. Other paintings included a family of a woman, a man, and two boys with several goblin-like creatures in the background and a castle with a great black gate around it. Victoire looked closer at the castle and realized that it was actually a wizarding school.

"'Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was founded in the seventeenth century, and it is located on the highest peak of Mount Greylock.' Eli, did you know about this?" The three of them leaned over the tiny book, their eyes following the minuscule words on the page.

"I knew there were wizarding schools all across the world. Obviously, there's Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, but there are others. You know, the ones in Japan and Uganda, but they're fairly small and unheard of to the European Wizarding World." Eli explained. "But, it shouldn't be surprising that there is an American school. After all, where else would they learn?"


	2. Another Magical Beginning

_quick little author's note: hi! i'm n, and i'm an amateur writer that randomly decided to start writing this fic over summer break. ever since i read about ilvermorny on pottermore, i've been DYING to write something about the school. it seemed like an interesting concept, but it's actually be really hard to adapt to. we've had seven books of hogwarts, and an essay for ilvermorny, which is why i just wanted to say that if there are any discrepancies to be found, i'm really sorry! i'm really trying my hardest. anyways, cheers, and happy reading!_

II

Rhys

The magical train station filled itself with the American wizards and witches, all ready for the start of the school year. First years gripped their parents' hands as they wandered through the throngs of wizards and witches, while sixth and seventh years jumped on and off the stationary train, waiting for it to begin the journey up to Mount Greylock. The platform itself had seen better days. The faded and chipped blue paint of the platform walls blended in with the blue from their school robes, while the purplish red color of the train matched the stripes of cranberry. Pens, quills, and ink were being passed around, and a great barn owl soared high over Rhys's head, accompanied by the screams of someone who had accidentally opened their owl cage.

The boy jumped aboard the train with his suitcase and backpack, dreaming about the soft bed that awaited him in his dorm at Ilvermorny. The blankets would be soft and plush, as would the pillows, and when it got cold, someone would place magical heating pads between the sheets. The whole of Ilvermorny seemed warm and friendly to Rhys, unlike the no-maj world. For some reason, he has never felt comfortable there.

The walls of the train were lined with pictures of students, new and old. It was an old tradition that started when cameras first came to Ilvermorny. Students would put up the spelled pictures of themselves at the beginning or end of the year, and the number of pictures just seemed to increase by the year. Rhys found himself staring at a black and white picture of four boys, their arms flung over each others shoulders. They were wearing their school robes, with little Gordian Knots pinning the robes together near their necks. Each of their faces radiated happiness, and Rhys felt a sudden connection to these anonymous beings, who must have been delighted to be at this wonderful, magical school. Ilvermorny felt like so much more than a school. It felt like a whole being that radiated glory and pride, and Rhys loved it. He loved it far more than the ward at St. Mungo's, where his mother lived.

He tried not to dwell on that too much.

"Rhys, buddy!" Nolan Caldwell called from one of the train cabins, accompanied by their other friend, Emma Kaur. He clumsily waved his hand, which nearly slapped the girl in the face, and Emma proceeded to hurl insults at him. "Come here before Ems kills me."

"Watch where you put your limbs!" Emma snapped at him, but quickly turned around to give Rhys a hug. "Rhys, why didn't you come over this summer? Please, don't tell me you spent it at that hospital."

"Give it a break, Em." Nolan cocked a grin. Rhys had always found him to be slightly odd, yet completely wonderful, with his shocks of blonde hair, lanky figure, and an endless supply of bad jokes. In comparison, Emma was a head shorter than Nolan, and her hair was thick and black. Her face was slightly chubby, and she always wore a pair of black glasses that made her seem older than she actually was. Rhys supposed that she might well be, since many of her school papers had made their appearances in various wizarding journals. In fact, the _American Prophet_ had even published several of her essays on the proper treatment of magical creatures. "How've you been, bud?"

"I've been well. Stayed in a magical hotel for a while. I didn't go over to St. Mungo's." Memories of addled patients and the smell of magical cleaning products filled his head, and he wanted to puke. Instead, he replaced them with the bright sunlight streaming through the window near his bed while he was waking up inside a warm bed and the sound of Nolan and Emma's laughter as they sat in the wizarding village of Grey Peaks, sipping butterbeers.

"Man, you could've just stayed with me!" Nolan replied as the three of them sat down in the train cabin. Emma, as per usual, had a couple of MACUSA minutes and a pen next to her. Nolan had a couple of his old school books out, including some old tomes like _Magic in North America_ or Vol. III of _Chadwick's Charms_.

"Maybe over Christmas break." Rhys replied, and Nolan's eyes light up. The Caldwells were one of the oldest Wizarding families in American history, but they had a tendency to be rather cold and distant to their family, which drove Nolan absolutely crazy. When Rhys had stayed with him during their last Christmas vacation, the only person who had even bothered to talk to him was the house-elf.

"Oh, it was beautiful! I read up on Beauxbatons Academy of Magic before I went, but we're obviously not allowed to actually visit the school unless you're invited." Emma's eyes sparkled with a hint of maniac. "We did go to some wizarding establishments that were just _exquisite_." Behind her, Nolan mimed drinking a cup of tea with his pinky sticking out, which made Rhys roar with laughter.

Laughing felt good.

"I have this penpal in England, I think his girlfriend's mom went to Beauxbatons." Rhys vaguely remembered a letter he received near the beginning of the summer from Teddy about it. He had been talking about a particularly awkward evening with his girlfriend's parents where he learned that bit of information. Emma's eyes grew even larger. "How 'bout you, Nol?"

"Nothing exciting. My parents had business in Maine, so I spent a good bit of time playing cards and keeping up on the Quidditch matches in one of their old estates. Then, I had to visit family, what a _hassle_. " Nolan replied in a bored voice. "My no-maj cousins, they're the worst. They think they're the best of the best, and my parents won't let me tell them that I'm magical."

"Nolan, think about this logically," Emma said, in a voice that was dripping in cynicism. "Obviously, your parents don't want you to tell no-majs that you can do _actual_ magic. Can you even imagine their reaction? What if they report you to the police, or anybody else?"

"Yeah, but it would be cool to scare the punks, don't you think?" The two of them headed into one of their many long-winded arguments, and Rhys settled back to listen to them and watch the scenery outside the window. The train passed a herd of cows in the wilderness, and Rhys finally let himself relax. His entire summer had been spent reading The Daily Prophet America from back to front and eating ice-creams from the shop below his inn. The magical town that he had stayed in was hidden in the middle of Kansas, and he had gotten someone to Side-Along Apparate with him to the train station in Florida, where Emma and Nolan were getting on. Since every magical kid in America couldn't get to one train station, MACUSA had decided to set up several stations across the country. They left at different times of the day so that every student got to Ilvermorny at precisely five-thirty in the evening, right in time for sorting and the opening feast.

"Every year, I thank the _stars_ that our wands are allowed outside of school. Rappaport's Law was a dumb oversight by our government." Nolan pulled his wand out of the pocket of his jeans and twirled in around in his hands, which made Emma yelp and jump away from him. "What now, Ems?"

"Don't do that!" She snapped. "Knowing you, you're going to start charming Rhys into a mouse or something. And, _then_ , you're going to get yourself expelled. Or worse." Emma glared at him while she tied her thick hair into a ponytail and covered her face with one of the papers.

"There are worse ways to live out one's life." Rhys commented. "I mean, a mouse, it wouldn't be that bad. A rat would be worse. Or a guinea pig. Urgh."

"Too true." Nolan replied, shoving his wand back into the pocket of his jeans. Rhys fingers slipped into the pocket of his sweater to feel his wand. It was the one that he has had ever since his first year. Students get their wands the first day they arrive, and they usually wouldn't leave a wizard or witch's side. Secretly, Rhys agreed with Nolan. If Rappaport's Law hadn't been repealed, they would have had to leave their wands at school over summer vacation, which seemed like absolute hell. Even if he couldn't use it, Rhys still found comfort in putting it on his bedside table right before he fell asleep each night. It reminded him that the world he loved so much wasn't just a fever dream.

"You two are veritable idiots." Emma replied from behind her MACUSA minutes.

 _It felt good to be home_.


	3. Hogwarts & Coming Home

_a lil author's note: this is a long chapter, so sorry about that! i got a biiiit carried away with victoire's character. i hope you enjoy this part and the other parts to come! -n_

III

Victoire

The train lurched to a stop right outside of Hogsmeade, and Victoire leaned out the window to look at Hogwarts looming in the distance. Rain slashed against the glass of the train carriage, and the trio could barely see any of the castle. Victoire imagined the little boats sitting in the water, where Hagrid would be standing, waving his large hands. He reminded Victoire of Father Christmas, that was, if Father Christmas liked to grow giant pumpkins and care for dragons.

"We're here!" Siobhan shouted as she pulled on the right sleeve of her robes. Eli had long since put on his black robes, and he was currently stacking away his collection of books and adjusting his glasses atop his nose. Victoire slipped the letter from Teddy into her pocket and the book into her trunk. "Eli, get up, we're here, we're here!" They grabbed their trunks from the racks, ready to drag them to the carriages that took them up to the castle.

"What are you, a second year?" He replied in a bored tone, but Victoire could see him looking hopefully out of the window with an expression that suggested he has been waiting ages for this day. Students began to file into the corridor, dragging their trunks and animals behind them. Victoire saw Markus holding a stack of books in front of him, trying to avoid the Slytherin Heads, who appeared to be making fun of the way he walked and the way he held his books, which was horribly typical of them. Victoire had half a mind to run out there and defend him herself, but Marcus soon disappeared, along with the Slytherins. Lily had come out of her carriage, along with several other terrified looking first years. They whispered amongst themselves, no doubt discussing sorting. Albus, James, and a dozen other boys ran through the corridor, causing riots amongst the Prefects.

Siobhan led the trio out of the compartment and gently shoved a couple of smaller students out of the way with her trunk. "Midgets, out, let's go!"

"S!" Eli sounded outraged. "You can't call them 'midgets'." He was carrying one of his book neatly tucked under his black robes, and he had one hand gripped on his trunk. His uniform sat perfectly in place, with his Gryffindor tie tucked into his sweater and his shirt tucked tidily into his pants. In comparison, Siobhan was a right old mess. Her red and gold striped tie sat lopsided on top of her sweater, the top button of her shirt opened to reveal a small, silver necklace, and her skirt was crumpled.

"I can call them whatever I please, Elliot, it's my last year. I can do whatever the hell I want." Siobhan loudly announced, which scared off a couple of the 'midgets'. Victoire snorted at the two of them, leaving them to bicker amongst themselves. "Actually, Vic's our Head Girl, maybe she can knock some sense into these munchkins."

"I am not knocking sense into anybody. Except you." Victoire replied, causing Eli to laugh soundly. The three of them approached the exit of the train and could already feel the sharp pricks of rain hitting them at high velocity. "Stars, those first years are not going to have much fun." Hagrid stood in the same place he usually did, except he looked slightly less jolly this year. In fact, he looked like he was having about as much fun as a person on the receiving end of Auntie Ginny's Bat Bogey curse.

The sky would have been beautiful, especially with the light from the castle reflecting onto lake. Some first years would carry little lanterns that would add to the glowing orbs from the castle. Owls would swoop past the grey turrets, and one of the more lenient teachers might have even lit up the sky with sparks. In Victoire's third year, Professor Flitwick had allowed a sixth year to perform N.E.W.T level magic in the Great Hall, which had ended with half a dozen students needing the attention of Madam Pomfrey and another dozen had needed Headmaster McGonagall to transfigure them back to normal, human proportions. Needless to say, no students were allowed to perform feats of such nature after that.

"We've got to run for it, I suppose." Siobhan reasoned out as she pulled a bit of her robes above her head. Victoire did the same, but Eli, refusing to mess with his school uniform, shook his head and braved the weather. They pulled their trunks through the puddles, splashing themselves until the hems of their robes and their hands were drenched

Outside, the heavy winds mixed in with the pelting rains made for a dangerous combination. Not only did the rains bite and pinch, but the winds made it dig with such force, it felt like someone had taken a pocket knife to Victoire's skin. She saw Hagrid herding the first years into the boats as quickly as possible, and even still, most of them already looked soaked to the bone. She spotted Lily and Hugo entering a boat together, their red hair plastered to their faces.

Victoire followed Siobhan and Eli into one of the self-driven carriages that took them to right into the castle. The three of them were ready to ride away when a sharp voice yelled, "Wait, wait!" The carriage stopped, and three Slytherins jumped in, spraying water into the carriage.

"Weasley?" The reprehensible and pointed face of Lorian Walsh stared Victoire down, and she felt annoyance rising out of her. "Well, I'd say."

"Walsh." Ever since the two of them had been standing next to each other in line to get sorted, they had been enemies. Something about Lorian Walsh made Victoire incredibly nervous and suspicious. It might have been his horrible sneer or the way his pointed nose always seemed to be facing upwards in a way that suggests he was better than everybody, but, whatever it was, he made Victoire want to punch something. As she had realized he was actually one of the smartest students in her year., her irritation had only increased. The only person who seemed to hate Lorian more than her was Siobhan. "What do you want?" He was always surrounded by two other various Slytherins. This time, it was an Asian girl with long, dark hair and a pretty face along with a tall boy who had the sharpest cheekbones that Victoire had ever seen.

"Vicky Weasley." He drawled, then looked at Eli and Siobhan, the latter rolling her eyes. "With the usual crowd, I see."

"Sod off, Walsh." Siobhan replied, and Lorian whistled in appreciation. "Nobody needs to hear your voice for more than a minute at most." Lorian slicked back his brown hair to reveal a high widow's peak, which only furthered Eli's running theory that he lived a double life as a vampire-slash-Hogwarts student.

"Siobhan, darling, you'd better keep that attitude for what's about to come." Lorian smirked, and Siobhan snorted at him. "There are going to be some, what's the word, _dangerous_ tasks ahead."

"Bollocks, Walsh." Victoire replied, and his smirk grew. He crossed his arms and kicked his legs out in front of him.

"Trust me," He replied, in a drawl so slow, it felt like he were talking to children. "or don't. It's all up to you," Siobhan glared at him again, and he reciprocated, cocking one eyebrow up.

"We're almost here." Eli interrupted, pulling Siobhan out of the way. "Better get off now." Victoire kicked Siobhan in the legs, and the trio jumped off the carriage with their trunks in hand.

Hogwarts stood closer to them now, so close that they could see the pearly ghosts milling about in the entrance hall. Through the multitude of water droplets, Victoire vaguely saw the first years nearly swimming their way through the lake. Hagrid's yells kept them on course, but several boats spouted off in different directions every so often and had to be pulled back on course by other students.

"Hurry, hurry!" Professor Longbottom rushed them through, almost slipping on the rain water himself. Victoire gave him a warm smile because of his friendship with her family, but other than being the smartest and clumsiest Herbology teacher, she wasn't very close with the man. He grinned as he led a group of second years with surprising ease. "Now, now, budge up there, that's right, budge up." The three of them ran up the stairs and into the wonderful warmth of Hogwarts castle. The inside was lit up, with garlands hung around everything and the chandeliers shined to perfection. Silvery ghosts weaved their way through the entrance hall, waving their greetings to some of their favorite students. Nearly Headless Nick wandered right in front of Victoire, and she waved hello.

"My dearest Victoire! Oh, how you've grown. I do remember you as a first year. I suppose this is your last year?" He sighed dramatically. "You lot do grow up fast." The ghost flew away, fiddling with his head. He flew right past Headmistress McGonagall's green velvet hat, which she had put on for the occasion. She stood near a neat pile of luggage, which the trio add to.

"He still freaks me out a little, I wouldn't hesitate to say that." Eli replied in a low voice, staring at Nearly Headless Nick as he reenacted his beheading for several interested third years. "Remember when he pulled his head off the first day we came?" He shivered at the memory, and Victoire suddenly sympathized. Ghosts were a weird lot.

"Good evening, Mr. Wells, Miss Mor, Miss Weasley." McGonagall nodded at the three of them, and they waved their hellos back. She straightened the brim of her hat and adjusted the collar of her robes. "Best be off to your tables. I wouldn't want to be late to the feast." Victoire flashed a faint smile to her, and she swore the Professor gave her one in return. Siobhan nudged her towards the large, open doorway that led to the Great Hall.

The Hall itself looked the same as ever, the only difference being the pelting rains and dark, stormy clouds looming up above. The rain fell, but stopped just above the candles that light the room. Professors of all shapes and sizes lined the Head table, while tapestries with the house emblems and colors were hung on the vast walls.

"Hello!" She walked over to where Albus and James were sitting, along with some of their other friends. Siobhan and Eli took seats near the front of the table, waving for her to come join them. "Everything okay?"

"I'm excited to see Lily." Albus replied, James nodding in agreement. "She's going to be a Gryffindor."

"Don't be so sure." James replied in a serious voice. "She could be sorted into Slytherin. You haven't been on the receiving end of one of her pranks. It's terrible." When Lily was eight, she had replaced everybody's wands with trick wands on Christmas, which nearly caused Grandma Molly to have a mental breakdown. Later that day, she had locked James in his bedroom with twelve Fanged Frisbees.

Needless to say, Uncle George had been incredibly pleased with himself, but Grandma Molly had refused to buy the girl anything from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

"Get to your house tables, please!" Professor Longbottom came in, already carrying a cactus in his left hand, the pot wrapped in a red ribbon. "Dominique, Louis, that's you. I'm sorry, I don't make the rules! Boot, let's go, back to Ravenclaw." He herded them back to their tables, and Victoire walked down the table and sat near her friends and the other seventh years.

"Let's hope this year's sorting goes by quick, yeah?" Siobhan said, which Eli rolled his eyes at.

"S, sorting is an important Hogwarts tradition. It promotes the feeling of belonging and unity." Eli explained, pulling out the book from under his robes. This time, it was a tattered N.E.W.T level Potions textbook that he has already annotated two times through.

"I would like to _belong_ with the feast and _unite_ with my food." Siobhan grumbled, staring at where the Sorting Hat sat, completely motionless. Other students, most of them dripping wet, had seated themselves at their tables. Victoire spotted Lorian Walsh and his mates sitting at the Slytherin table, spinning the silverware with their wands. Little Scorpius Malfoy sat right next to him, his blonde hair and piercing green eyes distinguishing him from the others. Some of the Professors were sat in the long table in the front of the room, and the Headmistress's large and important chair chair was placed right in the center. Professor Longbottom helped students to find their way back to their correct house table and then took his own place in the head table. Compared to the rest of them, he looked young and inexperienced, but anybody who had taken a class with him knew he was by far the most highly educated Herbology professor that had ever taught at Hogwarts.

With a great swing of the doors, the first years came wandering in, looking miserable. Their hair stuck to their faces, and their brand new robes were soaked. Hagrid stomped in, spraying students with water. He walked up to his place in the head table, right next to Flitwick. Hagrid shaked the water out of his massive beard and hair, which succeeded in getting Professor Flitwick angry and soaking.

Headmistress McGonagall led the first years towards the Sorting Hat. "As I call your name, you will step up to be sorted. Ready?" Not a single face in the crowd looked ready, but McGonagall began anyways. "Adams, Louise!" A scared looking girl with a blonde ponytail and a pale face walked up and McGonagall placed the Hat on her head. When the Sorting Hat began to talk, some of the first years lept back in shock, while others lazily looked up. The Hat considered for a moment, then yelled, "SLYTHERIN!" The table with green-and-silver clad students erupted into applause, and Louise walked over to sit amongst them. Lorian patted her on the back, and Scorpius shook her hand. A long set of students got sorted, their new houses cheering loudly for them.

"Potter, Lily!" Even before getting sorted, the youngest Potter received a cheer from a several of the houses. She smiled and ran up to McGonagall, who gave her a rare smile. The Hat barely touched her head before shouting a strong "GRYFFINDOR!" The entire room bursted into applause and cheers, and Lily's cheeks turned the color of her hair as she grinned with happiness. Victoire stood up to applaud her and gave her a hug as she sat amongst her fellow first years. The next girl was also sorted into Gryffindor, while the next boy was sorted into Hufflepuff. The sorting continued until Victoire heard a name that she knew

"Scamander, Lorcan!" Victoire watched as a boy with messy, dirty-blonde hair and silvery-grey eyes walked up to the Sorting Hat.

"Isn't that Luna Lovegood's boy?" Eli whispered. "My parents were particularly interested in the Quibbler when I brought one home."

"RAVENCLAW!" Lorcan grinned broadly and hurried towards his table, who were cheering and stamping their feet. He leaned forward to look at another boy who looked similar to him, and Victoire remembered that the Scamander boys were twins.

"Scamander, Lysander!" His brother, who had the same dirty-blonde hair and silvery eyes but a taller figure, walked up to where McGonagall placed the Hat on his head. Oddly enough, it took longer for it to choose a house for him. After several long minutes of Lysander looking terrified out of his mind as his eyes continuously flicked up to the hat atop his head, the Hat yelled, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The house of Newt Scamander bursted into applause, and they took the boy into their fold. Lorcan looked slightly miffed, but someone hugged him tightly, and he brightened up again.

"Thomas-Finnigan, Morrigan!" The Headmistress called, and a dark-skinned girl with her hair tied up in a ponytail fell out of the crowd. Again, the Hat barely touched her head before it yelled, "GRYFFINDOR!"

After several more first years were sorted and cheered for, the last person standing between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables was Weasley, Hugo, who was called instantly. He nervously walked up to the hat, and McGonagall nodded at him before placing the hat on his head. It sat for several minutes, and Siobhan groaned lightly, staring at the empty plate in front of her.

"GRYFFINDOR!" At this, the whole hall went wild. Gryffindors laughed and clapped, and even some of the other houses joined in. Hugo sat next to Morrigan and Lily, who both patted him on the back.

Headmistress McGonagall's expression looked slightly happier as she stepped into the Head chair and begant to talk. "Welcome back to another year of learning at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! As much as I would like to discuss the year's, ah, complexities, I am told that you are to feast before we begin to talk. Yes, Ms. Mór, that means you can eat." She smiled in Siobhan's direction, and Victoire's friend blushed as hundreds of food items bursted into view on the golden plates. A bowl of roast potatoes and a dish of gravy sat right in front of Victoire's face, and for the first time today, she realized just how hungry she was. She dug into the potatoes and a freshly buttered dinner roll. Eli took a bit of potato, and Siobhan nearly emptied the bowl into her plate, which made a first year wrinkle his nose.

"Mate, if I needed your opinions on my food, I would have asked you." Siobhan snapped at the small boy, who shrunk way. "That's right, sod off."

"Please don't tell students to 'sod off', Siobhan. Sorry, Alfred." Victoire scolded, smiling kindly at the boy. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Thanks." He muttered, leaning towards a bowl of sausages and another bowl of potatoes. The feast continued. Everybody laughed and talked, filling themselves with pumpkin juice and more heavy food. Victoire saw Fred Weasley, who was a sixth year, and Roxanne Weasley, who was a fourth year, a little further down the table, along with Molly and Lucy, who were fifth and fourth years respectfully. She waved at them, and they smiled back. She saw them every Christmas, but they had never been particularly good friends at school.

"Hi!" Agatha Grayson, another Gryffindor in Victoire's year, slid in next to Eli, giving him a quick hug. Her soft brown hair was pulled back into a plait that snaked onto her shoulder, and her round face lifted into a smile. She pulled Victoire into a hug, and raised an eyebrow at Siobhan, who was currently stuffing her mouth with food.

"Ags, wha wou oo?" Siobhan asked through a mouthful of food. She swallowed. "Where were you?"

"I was sitting down there." She said in her American accent as she pointed to the end of the table, where a girl who looked extremely similar to Agatha sat, looking about as miserable as one can be at the Welcoming Feast. "My sister's being weird about being in England. I don't know what the hell's wrong with her, but my parents are on edge. I mean, my mother's job is incredible, here in the Ministry, but Astoria won't let up. We're in a good place, and she's ruining it." Agatha sighed heavily, grabbing a dinner roll and stuffing it in her mouth.

"That's not good." Victoire replied, looking down at Agatha's little sister. They looked nearly identical, but the younger girl was lankier and her face was more pointed.

"Yup." Agatha replied, tucking into some Yorkshire pudding. "How were your summers?" Before Victoire could answer, Professor McGonagall stood up and began to talk, her eyes staring into every student in the Hall.

"Good evening, students!" The hall echoed her voice, and every student turned to her in rapt attention. "Welcome back to another year of learning. Over your summer holidays, we have curated a various number of changes that will hopefully make your year as pleasurable as possible."

"Changes?" Eli muttered.

"I would like to acknowledge a new member of our staff, who will be in and out of here for a certain period of time. Headmistress Joan Picquery, granddaughter of former Madame President of MACUSA, Seraphina Picquery." McGonagall explained as a middle-aged woman with dark skin, silvery hair, and a gentle smile came forward from behind the head table. Her cranberry and blue robes flowed down over her thin fingers that were interlocked with each other. Her nature was effortlessly beautiful, as though she simply was, not tried. For some reason, Victoire found the name familiar to her, and she suddenly realized why. _Seraphina Picquery was one of the most famous Presidents of MACUSA, the American version of the Ministry of Magic, that's what the book said_. "I take it many of you are confused. I will explain. We in England are not the only ones to have a complex magical system. Across the pond, the United States of America holds another of the world's greatest magical schools. Headmistress Picquery heads Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I have the highest respect for her." The two women nodded at each other.

"Headmistress, what's going on?" A boy from the Hufflepuff table yelled, and McGonagall frowned in his direction.

"The Ministry of Magic would like students of Hogwarts to have a better understanding of their American counterparts, so once a week, each of you will have a special class that specializes in the customs of American wizards in the hopes that throughout the year, we will meet several Ilvermorny students and they will meet some Hogwarts students." McGonagall announced, and the entire room erupted into whispers. "Quiet! This is to show that magical cooperation is not just amongst the adults in the wizarding community. It is also amongst the students. After your lessons, several of you will be chosen to Apparate overseas to visit the MACUSA building as well as tour the Ilvermorny grounds."

"This is not just about learning each other's customs. This is about showing that even in the face of hardship and danger, we must persevere. We must fight back against ideals that threaten to, ah, devastate us." Headmistress Joan Picquery said, in an American accent that reminds Victoire of a silver flute. "One more thing. Though we are encouraging a spirit of kinship and friendship, a little healthy competition must take place. This is why we will organize an Ilvermorny versus Hogwarts Quidditch match at the end of the year. A few of my students will travel to have it at Hogwarts, and a select seven of you will be chosen to play on the team."

"Now, that that's finished, let's get onto more domestic matters. Thank you, Headmistress Picquery." The woman nodded and seated herself next to Professor Longbottom, who reached out to shake her hand. "Quidditch trials will be held later this week. I expect all of you to be on your best behavior. Now, off to bed, off to bed! Classes start bright and early tomorrow. Yes, that means you, Boot. Let's go, let's go!"

"What the hell was that?" Siobhan muttered to the group, as the entire Gryffindor table stood and left. "What does this mean for Hogwarts?"

"It means things are going to change." Eli said, looking towards Headmistress McGonagall. "It means that Hogwarts must be in danger."


	4. The Arrival at Ilvermorny

IV

Rhys

"We're here!" Nolan looked out the train window as they approached the base of Mount Greylock. The sky was darker now, just the shade between midnight and daylight, and the high turrets of Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry could be seen in the distance. The mountain peaks stood high enough that the train would not be able to go up and back down comfortably, and Rhys saw the familiar, flying blue and cranberry carriages landing right near the train, each of them painted with the Ilvermorny symbol on the sides. Emma finally slid the essays into her suitcase on the rack above her seat and adjusted her robes. Students were coming out of their train compartments, peeking their heads out to see whether it was safe for them to come out. The no-majs never came to this place, due to a convenient, thick fog that made it impossible for them to see anything. Even if they did, they suddenly remembered urgent appointments that they needed to attend.

"Who's house president this year, again?" Rhys asked, staring at all the seventh years who were crowding the halls.

"Think it's one of my cousins." Nolan muttered. The trio left their suitcases and backpacks in the compartment and attempted to make their way through the throng of robe-clad students that yelled and shouted at each other to try and get the best flying carriages.

"Children, let's go, let's go!" The tall, wizening Professor Albert Macintosh, the Charms teacher, hobbled out to herd the first years towards the carriages. "Four to a carriage, that's right, only four. Get moving, get moving. Yes, that means you, Boot." Nolan led the three of them over to the next available carriage, where a boy with spiky brown hair and a golden Wampus on the breast of his robes sat. He nodded in their direction, but paid them little attention.

"This is not my favorite thing in the world." Nolan said weakly as the carriage lifted off the ground and up into to the misty air. It was an odd way of travel, one that Rhys rated less than a broomstick, but ultimately higher than Floo Powder. Nolan currently looked as green as the emerald flames that were a result of Floo Powder, and Rhys patted him gently on the back. Emma leaned over to look at the mountain below them, her glasses threatening to fall off. Rhys watched as other carriages passed them by, with many of the first years laughing and grinning. It must have been a wonderous sight, with carriages floating in the middle of the dusky air, mist wreathing through them, and the sound of laughter and happiness spreading nearly as quickly as the mist.

It was what Rhys felt every time he stepped into Ilvernmorny. A sudden urge of belonging and caring bursted through him, and he felt unstoppable, nearly drunk on the glory of it all.

In his particular position in the sky, he saw the unmistakable statues of Isolt and James, the two founders of their school. Their granite statues guarded the school from lapses in morality and other dangers that threatened the integrity of Ilvermorny. Oddly enough, he saw the black robes of Aurors from MACUSA flanking the gates in two lines. Their faces were set and hardened, and they pointedly ignored the students in the carriages.

"Why are the Aurors here?" Nolan wondered out loud, and Emma leaned so far to look at them that Rhys pulled her robes so she didn't tumble to her death. "What's happening?" Many of the other students leaned over to stare at the men and women who remained stoic as everyone gaped at them.

"Just a little safety precaution!" Professor Macintosh yelled from one of the carriages. "Don't worry about them!" At this point, the carriages were several feet off the ground, readied for landing in front of the castle, which lit up the dark sky. The inside of Ilvemorny must be lit up with hundreds of lights, and those would create a little beacon for the carriages to head towards. Several of the house presidents led the first years towards the doors of the castle, and the rest of the school followed behind. Emma waved to one of her roommates in the girls' Thunderbird dormitory, while Nolan saw someone from Wampus that made him scoff loudly.

Their carriages landed on the greenery in front of the ebony gates. Professors stood near the Aurors, as though they were trying to deflect the attention. They smiled at the several students who looked curiously at the black-robed wizards and witches.

"Good evening." The Headmistress Joan Picquery stood near the entrance hall, wearing her usual blue and cranberry robes. She had strange, grey eyes that twinkled whenever she smiled, and silver hair that shined in the light from the castle. "Welcome, welcome." Before her mind had become addled, Rhys's mother had been good friends with Headmistress Picquery, but the boy would be surprised if his mother even remembered who Joan Picquery was now. He tried not to let this ruin his first day, but even glancing at the Headmistress reminded him of it all again.

The trio made their way up the front stairs and then up the stairs that led to the wooden balcony where they would watch the sorting happen. From this angle, everybody could see the carvings in the floor of the hall, the intricate designs of the Horned Serpent, Wampus, Thunderbird, and Pukwudgie curving around each other. A couple of first years were standing around the edge of the room below, looking like they were about to be thrown out of Thunderbird tower.

"Stars, I'm hungry." Nolan complained, staring down at the carvings. "First years have to go through this _and_ get their wands." Emma rolled her eyes at him.

"Sorting is an important part of the Ilvermorny experience." She explained. "Giving us houses allows us to harness our creativity and brilliance in a conducive environment, such as with people of our own nature."

"Bullshit." Nolan conclusively responded, and Emma scoffed at him, adjusting her glasses. The rest of the student body filed in, until all of them were either leaning against the wooden railing or chatting among themselves. Professor Macintosh, accompanied by Professor Amelia Athens, who taught Transfiguration and was titled as the Deputy Headmistress of Ilvermorny, filed in as well, creating a path for them to walk through.

"Quiet, please!" Athens shouted, adjusting her own royal blue hat, which matched her robes. "Your respect and silence is required for this sorting. Our previous students have afforded you such luxuries, and I can only hope you will provide the same for our newest students." Her voice was strict and right to the point, which strongly reminded Rhys of an old, wizening woman who lived with dozens of cats.

"This better go quick." Nolan muttered to himself as the first years took their places. The first couple looked terrified at the thought of carvings moving underneath them, but after a few got sorted (Thunderbird, Thunderbird, Horned Serpent, Wampus, Horned Serpent, Pukwudgie), they understood the routine of it all. They got sorted, the older students cheered when their house was called out, and they continued onto the next room to get their wands with pink-tinged cheeks and large smiles.

After half an hour and a bit of cheering from the upper floor, the Sorting finished, and all the students were invited downstairs for the feast. Long tables appeared on the floor, covering up the carvings in the center. A head table that housed the professors and other staff sat perpendicular to the four parallel tables with a large tapestry of a golden Gordian Knot hanging on the wall behind it. In the middle sat a chair that stood higher and greater than the others, which was the one that Headmistress Picquery was sat in. Rhys and his friends took seats at the Thunderbird table, where the silver plates had already been set out. First years came scurrying back in, taking their place at their new tables. Most of them are gripping their new wands under their robes. A little boy with bright red hair accidentally set his shoe on fire. A couple of students laughed while Professor Macintosh set him right with a wave of his wand. The Presidents of each house was sat near the head of each table, and Thunderbird's just so happened to be one of Nolan's older cousins, Georgia Caldwell. His family boasted themselves as one of the 'high wizarding families' and tended to produce house presidents and high ranking members of MACUSA. She was dishing out smiles to all the new students, presumably trying to spread her favor around.

"Please, be seated!" Headmistress Picquery raised her arms as she stood up to greet the students. "A sincere welcome from my staff and I to Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" Her voice echoed throughout the hall, and the entire school started cheering loudly. Her eyes twinkled as she smiled gently.

"Now, as much as I would like to discuss the happenings of this year, it would be a shame to do it under empty stomachs, so I say feast!" As she shouted the last word, food popped up onto the glimmering silver plates, and Nolan didn't even bother looking at all the food before grabbing everything under the sun. He grabbed a burger from in front of him, and some of the potatoes sitting right next to it. Emma gingerly took some of the potatoes and leaned over to talk to a girl in Horned Serpent.

"Who's that?" Nolan nodded towards an elder, bespectacled woman wearing green robes who walked into the hall several minutes ago. Her face looked strict, a bit like Professor Athens, and she shook hands with every professor sitting on the head table. Emma turned back towards them, frowning at the woman.

"I recognize her from somewhere." Emma's eyebrows knitted together, and she rifled through the pockets in her skirt and robes to pull out newspaper scraps from _The Daily Prophet America_ and from the original _Daily Prophet_ from Britain.

"Only you would keep newspaper bits in your pockets, Em." Nolan muttered as she spread them out across the table. A girl with braids in her brown hair frowned as Emma pushed her plate away to display her clippings.

"This one!" Emma grabbed one of the smaller ones and shoved it under Rhys's face. When he pulled it back to a decent length from his eyes, he saw the woman that was shaking Headmistress Picquery's hand. The headline read, _Headmistress Minerva McGonagall of Hogwarts School Accepts Order of Merlin First Class_. "Minerva McGonagall?"

"What sort of name is that?" Nolan asked, grabbing the last piece of pie from a third year, who grunted in anger.

"What sort of name is Amelia Athens?" Rhys argued, and Nolan shrugged in agreement. "Hogwarts, isn't that the British version of Ilvermorny?"

"Well, _technically_ speaking, Ilvermorny was based on the main concepts of Hogwarts. In fact, our school robes are partly blue because Isolt Sayre wanted to be in Ravenclaw, whose house colors are blue and silver." Emma explained, fidgeting with her glasses.

"Raven-what?" Nolan looked confused. Rhys shrugged in his direction.

"Ravenclaw." explained Emma, in her usual, dignified tone. "is one of the four houses. There's Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Slytherin. Apparently, that wizard, the one who spread terror twenty years ago, he was from Slytherin."

"Intriguing." Nolan replied. "But, why would our friends from England want to interfere with us? We've never had to interact with them before."

"I have a pretty bad idea of what's about to happen." Emma looked up at Picquery, who was transfiguring a podium out of a fork. After she was finished, she gestured towards Headmistress McGonagall, who followed her up to the podium.

"Students, if you would." She raised her arms, and the food vanished from the silver plates, leaving nothing behind but Nolan's frown because of his unfinished slice of pie. "I hereby welcome you all back to Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." The whole hall erupted with the sound of clapping and cheering until Picquery smiled gently and raised her arms once again.

"Before I get started on school news, I thought I would introduce an old friend of mine. Students, meet Headmistress of Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall." McGonagall got a light applause, though many seemed hesitant when it came to her. "For those who are not aware, Hogwarts is our mentor school back in England. Their creation caused our creation, and we should be utterly grateful for that."

"Because of this, we are lending a helping hand to the school. Together, Headmistress and I have arranged a compromise. A friendly competition, let's say. Our two schools will first take up courses about each other: once a week, you will all take a class that teaches everything you will need to know about Hogwarts. After this, several of you will be Apparating to Hogwarts, where you will take lessons and tour the grounds. Some of you may even visit the Ministry of Magic."

"The Ministry of Magic?" Emma whispered, as her eyes brightened with happiness. Nolan raised his eyes at her.

"Doing this shall hopefully increase your knowledge of our dear establishment." McGonagall chimes in, her voice strict and utterly British. Rhys hopes desperately that she isn't the one teaching these classes. "My own students will also come and learn some of Ilvermorny's illustrious history. Doing this will hopefully reduce the risk of any, ah, undesirables ruining our harmony." The two Headmistresses looked at each other and shook hands, which represented a formal partnership.

"As well as learning, we shall also participate in a _friendly_ Quidditch game. Seven of you will be chosen to play on Ilvermorny's team against Hogwarts, which will take place on their grounds at the end of the year." Headmistress Picquery announced brightly. "Now, since we've gotten that through, we shall go to bed! I want you up bright and early for classes tomorrow. Off you go, off you go."

"What was that about?" Rhys asked, still confused by the announcement that they would be metaphorically joining hands with other school.

"It means that Ilvermorny's in danger." Emma replied, her voice less excited. "It means we're all in danger."


	5. Beware, Schools of Peace

V

Professor McGonagall

"Do you suppose it worked, Joan?" Minerva McGonagall sat down in the Headmistress's office of Ilvermorny, accepting a rather large glass of firewhiskey. Joan Picquery sighed, pulling out the piece of parchment that had been sent to both her and McGonagall.

"We better hope so." Her fingers flicked open the letter, revealing a prophecy that the two witches had pondered over extensively for the past several months.

 _Beware, schools of peace.  
_ _Beware of the Dark Arts,  
_ _Rising once more.  
_ _Beware,  
_ _Two schools, two students.  
_ _Their power shall be the end of you.  
_ _Beware._

Picquery's office was similar to the one that McGonagall held a place at back at Hogwarts. The whole room was circular, with portraits of the other headmasters and headmistresses lining the walls. Right behind Joan's granite desk sat two portraits of the founders of Ilvermonry, Isolt and James. They were gone now, presumably resting in another painting. The rest of the room was covered in all sorts of devices that hummed and whistled, reminding her a bit of Dumbledore's old office (minus Fawkes, of course). She had a bowl of lemon drops sitting on her desk, as well as a stack of parchment that had _MACUSA: THE MINUTES_ printed on the top in embossed, purple lettering.

"What do you think ' _Two schools, two students. They will be the end of you_ ' means?" McGonagall asked, looking up at Joan. In all the time they had known each other, Picquery had always been calm, collected, but today, she looked frazzled. McGonagall found it a shame that the they had had to meet in such a fashion, especially since Joan Picquery happened to be an incredibly intelligent woman of her generation.

"I think that someone's trying to scare us. Lord Voldemort has died, thank goodness, but someone wants to stir up trouble." Joan replied, taking a sip of firewhiskey. "I wish these people would leave the Dark Arts in the past, where they belong."

"Is there anybody at your school that fits this explanation? Someone who seems more powerful than the rest?" McGonagall asked her friend, who nodded her head.

"There's one boy. Rhys Grayson. He's brilliant, both on the Quidditch field and in his Defense classes. It's terrible what happened to his family." Joan shook her head slowly. "His father, he had an affair. Sad thing, really. His mother was a wonderful witch named Adrianna Moss. She was, ah, a friend of mine. When she told me she was seeing a married man, I wasn't sure what to think."

"What happened to the family?" McGonagall asked solemnly, gulping down her drink.

"Well, when his father lived in England, his mother went over to help you out in the Battle of Hogwarts. She was hit by the Cruciatus curse, but whoever did it hadn't done it properly, so she was okay after it. She stayed in England until the baby came along, and she moved back to America to raise him and told him that his father died because, god bless her, she was embarrassed to tell her own kid that he was a married man. I - I just don't have the heart to tell him that the father is still alive." Joan explained, taking such a large gulp of firewhiskey that her face turns slightly flushed.

"You say he's a powerful wizard?" McGongall asked, inquisitive about the boy.

"Of course. His power increases by the minute, but his mother has gone back to St. Mungo's. That affected him greatly, of course, but he was mature about it. He wanted help for her. After all, it's the best magical hospital in the world, and he wanted the best care for her. She's been there ever since Rhys was in third year." Joan Picquery explained. "I wish I could do something for the boy, but I've decided it's best if I leave him be. He's a fine student, and he's made various friends amongst his house."

"Bad things happen to good people." McGonagall sighed, pulling her hat off her head. "Hogwarts knows that better than most."


	6. The Draught of Living Death

VI

Victoire

"Tell me again, what did you mean when you said that we could be in danger?" Siobhan grilled Eli as he calmly spooned porridge into his bowl. A stack of books was sat near him, full of all of his N.E.W.T. level classes for the year.

"Okay, Siobhan, think about it this way: for years, they've kept the two schools apart. Having two schools that have been inherently separate finally meet after centuries is nearly unheard of. I mean, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang only meet Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament. If we're interacting with Ilvermorny, it's only because the school governors and our headmistress feels the need to. _Meaning_ there have been serious threats to both the schools. As you know, better united than divided." He pulled open an Arithmancy book that he had nearly finished reading, despite the fact that their classes hadn't actually started yet.

"Wouldn't they just cancel school?" Siobhan thought out loud as she grabbed a sausage from the middle of the long table. A couple of third years passed along their schedules, and Victoire groaned as soon as she looked at it.

"Double Potions? With the Slytherins? I should've quit when I had the chance." She said, regretting all those hours she has spent in the dungeons, though she needed it if she wants to work at the Ministry. "Why do I need Potions to become an Auror?"

"I assure you, Miss Weasley, the skill of potion brewing is highly sought after in the world of Aurors." Professor McGonagall said as she briskly walked past the Gryffindor table. "I would suggest you take it seriously."

"Sorry, Professor." She muttered, while Eli snorted into his porridge.

"Hogwarts would never simple _close down_ , S." Eli replied to her earlier question. "Unless, the school governors thought it would be the best thing to do. It simply wouldn't happen. Even during the Second Wizarding War, Hogwarts was still alive and thriving."

"I'm still confused." Siobhan finally said as she checked her watch. "Anyways, we should probably get going, Professor Slughorn isn't going to be pleased if we're late." She finished her sausage, and Eli took the last spoonful of porridge before the three of them vacated their seats and headed down the corridor that led to the dungeons and the Slytherin common room.

"Siobhan, aren't you Quidditch captain this year?" Eli asked, though his interest in the sport was about as much interest as Siobhan's in Arithmancy.

"Yes, why? Thinking of trying out?"

"Ha, you're funny, S." Eli shoved his Arithmancy book in his bag. "I just wanted to congratulate you. I forgot earlier."

"Cheers." They passed a couple of Hufflepuffs who were sat in a circle in the corridor, laughing as they exchanged cacti. "But, what you could do as a congratulations gift is do my potions homework for a month."

"No." Eli adjusted his glasses as they take a flight of stairs, naturally stepping over the trick stair that caught a first year behind them. "Do your own homework, S." They passed a stone wall that held the Slytherin common room and into the corridor that housed the dungeons where the elder students were taught. They felt very much like a torture-chamber-slash-dungeon, with damp, stone walls and low ceilings. The shelves were stocked with odorous potions brewing in the far corner, and another room led into the storage closet, where Slughorn kept everything from Boomslang skin to Unicorn horns.

"Welcome, welcome!" Professor Slughorn stood in the imposing archway that marked the entrance to the dungeon, wearing his usual, luxurious robes. His prominent stomach stuck out under his velvet waistcoat, and he stood in expensive, dragon-hide boots. "Miss Weasley, delightful to see you. Miss Mór. Ah, the intelligent Mr. Wells! Dears, where is our dearest Miss Grayson? I do miss her charm." Slughorn, despite all of his wonderful qualities, still prefered the company of pureblood wizards, especially those of powerful descent.

"Um, we didn't see Agatha this morning. She was still sleeping when we left the dormitories in the morning." Siobhan replied, just as a cool, female voice interrupted them.

" _She's_ right here." Agatha said from behind them, popping out of nowhere. "Hello, Professor Slughorn! It's wonderful to see you again." The old man gushed, shaking her hand vigorously.

"Oh, dearest, it's just lovely to see you again. How is your mother?" The other three excluded themselves from the conversation, heading towards a table near the center of the room.

"Ugh, what a twat." Siobhan arranged her books and her cauldron in such a way that she couldn't see the table in the front of the room where Professor Slughorn usually stood. Her eyes naturally rolled as she saw the brown-haired girl chatting animatedly to the professor. He kept leaning backwards as he laughed, threatening to fall backwards.

"He's not as much of a twat as they are." Victoire replied, nodding towards Lorian Walsh and his cronies, who made their way into a nearby worktable. He winked in the direction of Victoire's table, and it was her turn to roll her eyes. Walsh whispered something to the burly Slytherin beside him, then pointed to their table, which led to the three Slytherins laughing her heads off. Siobhan made a rude gesture at the three of them, and they mocked shocked expressions.

"Agreed." Eli replied as he placed his cauldron nearly atop the stand. Agatha came back to join the group, her round cheeks were tinged pink. "What did ol' Sluggie want?"

"Um, it's nothing. My family's been something of interest to him, and he'd like to meet them." She began to arrange her books and cauldron on the worktable, taking her time to organize them neatly. Everything about Agatha screamed neat and tidy, even more so than Eli. Her sweater and tie were perfectly aligned, and her robes hung perfectly from her small, soft frame. She had been perfect in class (sometimes without even trying), but Victoire had never really gotten the feeling that she wished to become an Auror or even work at the Ministry of Magic. In fact, all she seemed to want was to have a quiet life back in America.

"Welcome back!" Professor Slughorn closed the wooden door to the dungeon classroom, successfully blocking out any fresh air that could have given them clear heads. "For many of you, this is your last year at Hogwarts. It is a year of last laughs, goodbyes, and the last round of Potions classes you'll ever take from me." The entire class looked down at their feet or the darkening ceiling, anywhere but the Professor's face. After several, awkward seconds, he clapped his hands and began to speak again.

"Now that we've got that out of the way, we shall be focusing on Draught of Living Death, a particularly odd potion that renders the drinker into a deep, death-like slumber." Slughorn flourished his arms to reveal a black cauldron containing a pale pink potion. Lorian sniggered at once.

"It can't be _that_ dangerous, can it?" He said to one of his cronies, in a voice that carried throughout the room.

"Mr. Walsh, you would be a fool to taste this without the antidote! In fact, here's a question, what is the antidote to Draught of Living Death?" He looked around the room, his stare landing on Lorian longer than necessary. Eli lazily raised his hand, and Slughorn called on him. "Mr. Wells?"

"The Wiggenweld Potion is the antidote for Draught of Living Death. Though, if the potion is taken in excess or brewed incorrectly, the antidote will fail to work properly." Eli recited, as if he had swallowed one of their old textbooks.

Slugorn looked absolutely delighted.

"As usual, he is right! Ten points to Gryffindor. Today, we will analyze the ingredients for our delightful concoction, so open your textbooks to page forty three! Yes, now, now do it." And, so, several hours of Potions slogged by, and when they finally exited the dungeon, they all breathed the fresh air deeply.

"Where to next?" Agatha asked, stuffing her Potions book in her bag. "I've got Arithmancy."

"So do we." Victoire said to her, pointing to Eli. "S, what do you have?"

"Ugh, _History of Magic_ , as if this day couldn't get any worse." She replied, looking at her schedule. "Oh, but at least we have a break after that. Then, Defense Against the Dark Arts. Thank goodness, we have Transfiguration tomorrow. I don't think I could handle anything more."

"Why do you still take History of Magic, Siobhan?" Agatha curiously questioned. "We all quit after our O.W.L.s"

"It's intriguing." She shrugged as the four of them walk up the staircase. Victoire passed Lily, who was talking to Hugo and a girl from last night's sorting about her Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

"Did you see that drawing of the troll in the book? _Fascinating_." Hugo said, and the other two nodded their heads in agreement. Victoire smiled fondly as she remembered her own first year, back when Teddy had been a third year. He used to come 'round the Gryffindor portrait hole ("I will not let a Hufflepuff into _my_ common room!" The Fat Lady used to shriek.) and showed her to her classes when she was lost. Even before they started dating, they had been the best of friends, even the professors would say it. _Lupin and Weasley, they could give old Fred and George a run for their money._

"Come on, I'm going to be late." Agatha urged them on. "I don't fancy being on Professor Vector's bad side this early in the year."

"You don't fancy being on any Professor's bad side." Siobhan, disgruntled, muttered.

" _Fortuna maior_." Victoire said to the Fat Lady, who giggled with delight and opened the portrait hole. Agatha had gone to meet one of her friends from Ravenclaw, and Eli somehow disappeared on the walk back to Gryffindor tower.

"Good fortune, indeed!" She gushed, opening the portrait hole. As she jumped in, Victoire saw Siobhan sitting in a corner, reading _Hogwarts, A History_ in a squishy, red armchair, which blended right into the red and gold walls. A portrait of several famous Gryffindors sat right above it, and another hung right above the fireplace, where a couple of students are milling around the cushioned armchairs. She headed over to her, telling off two third years for burning bits of their textbooks in the fireplace.

"How was History of Magic?" She asked, flopping down into another armchair right next to it. "Better than last year?" Siobhan laughed, slamming the book closed.

"I suppose. Professor Binns just droned, but some of the later troll wars were better than usual. You know, I saw somethi-" Siobhan's words were droned out by a shrill, piercing scream that came from one of the girls dormitories. Victoire jumped from the chair and ran up the stairs, accompanied by the two girl prefects.

"There, go!" She pointed to the third year dormitories where the door was opened and a girl with brown plaits screamed, her hand plastered to her mouth. The entire dormitory looked trashed, with the curtains from the bed ripped off and the bedsheets pulled from their places. Books and ink and quills were scattered everywhere, and the posters and pictures that had been on the walls before were ripped to shreds and dumped across one of the beds. The prefects dropped to the ground, where a girl with blonde hair had had her robes twisted around her body. Her eyes were closed and her body looked limp.

Almost as if she were dead.


	7. Adrianna Moss Makes an Appearance

VII

Rhys

"Wait, wait, wait, hold on, what do you mean we're in danger?" Nolan poked Emma in the arm as they sat opposite each other at the tables in the hall. Students were filing in and out of the room, sporting new robes and school equipment. As per usual, the hall was decorated for the first day of school, with large tapestries of the four school houses hanging on the walls. The vast carvings of Ilvermorny sat beneath them as they ate waffles and spooned cereal into their mouths for breakfast.

"It's simple. We wouldn't need to learn about Hogwarts if we didn't need to." Emma took out her Arithmancy books, stacking them neatly on the Thunderbird table. "Only a big threat would force the two of us to merge." She took a bit of her fruit before opening the book and finishing the ending. Out of the three of them, Emma was the only one who took Arithmancy, Study of Ancient Runes, and Alchemy. Her workload exceeded that of Nolan and Rhys, though she seemed to always have time to badger them about homework.

Some seventh years passed down their schedules and Rhys groaned just looking at it. "Why do we have double Transfiguration first thing in the morning? Then Potions? Just kill me now." He stuffed the schedule into one of his old Chadwick's Charms books, trying not to look at the rest of the day.

"Ooh, I've got Arithmancy after. Plus, Professor Athens isn't _that_ bad. Come on, Rhys." Emma neatly folded her schedule and opened _DEFEND: An American Wizard's Guide to Defense Against the Dark Arts_ by Alfredo Albertson. She buried her face in the book, ignoring everybody else.

"She favors the Horned Serpents, it's horrible." Nolan replies. "You don't see it because all teachers are _perfect_ to you." Emma didn't answer, so he turned to Rhys.

"I agree. Athens is a great teacher and all, but she gave me a detention last year because I failed to transfigure my tortoise properly." Rhys explained.

"No, you got a detention because your tortoise turned into a giant teapot that sent three students to the hospital wing." Emma's muffled voice came from behind her Defense book.

"She made me organize every year's textbooks by amount of damage done to the book."

"So?"

"There were over four hundred books!" He argued, loudly enough for several third years to jump in their seats as they inhaled their cereal. "Sorry, Ems. I know you like her."

"It's okay." Emma buried her head once more in the thick, molasses-like writing of _DEFEND_.

"We're going to be late." Rhys said, looking at his watch. "Professor Athens isn't going to be pleased." Nolan stuffed the last of his sausage into his mouth and grabbed his bag. Emma scooped her Arithmancy book, and Rhys pulled all of his belongings towards him. They headed through the doors of the main hall and into the hallways that led towards the magical, wooden stairs that took them from one floor of the school to the next. He saw several first years jumping from staircase to staircase, and a couple of third years were trying to get their friend out from a trick stair. A couple of pukwudgies made their way around in groups, looking incredibly suspicious of all the new students who weren't from their own house.

"Well, say it ain't so. Rhys Grayson, my man!" Harrison Lord, in all of his Wampus glory, came striding out of absolutely nowhere, talking in his hideous Southern accent. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his pants, and he carried his wand in his left hand. Harrison's straight dark hair flopped over his forehead, right up until his brows. He had a long nose and a small mouth with high cheekbones. Some girls thought he looked handsome, but all Rhys saw was a liar and a cheat who looked vaguely like an under grown pig.

"Harrison." He muttered, getting more and more disgruntled by the minute. "What do you want?" He strutted next to them. Two other Wampus students followed behind him, both of them sneering in the trio's direction.

"My father told me a funny story about you over the summer vacation." He said, jumping over a trick stair. "You've been avoiding MACUSA ever since school got out in June."

"Harrison, you're an idiot." Emma said to him as they entered the Transfiguration classroom. Professor Athens, with her shoulder length blonde hair and small face, looked just as she has looked for the past five years: suspicious and vaguely annoyed. She ushered them in, her nose sticking up in the air at the sight of Rhys.

"Miss Kaur, Mr. Caldwell, and, ah, Mr. Grayson. How _wonderful_ to see you." The way her voice sharpened at the sound of his name made Rhys think that she feels the exact opposite. "Please, take your seats."

The square Transfiguration classroom had stone walls, with portraits of various teachers and wizards from the past lining the walls. A giant blackboard stood in the front of the room, right behind Athens's desk, covered in all sorts of scribbles and drawings for the lesson. The desks were neatly arranged in rows, and Emma headed to sit in the front, while Rhys and Nolan sat behind her. Harrison Lord was sat near the back of the classroom, right next to a cage filled with rats that rattled the metal bars.

"Hurry up, sit down, sit down." Professor Athens sounded impatient as she bustled to the front of the room, her blue robes trailing behind her. "Now, have any of you studied over the summer? Anybody do the essay on N.E.W.T level transfiguration? Ah, Miss Kaur, thank you." Emma pulled out a roll of parchment from her bag and handed it to the professor. A couple of students from Horned Serpent handed in their scrolls, while the majority of the class was sat empty handed. Rhys silently cursed himself for not doing anything over the summer, and he saw Nolan tapping his quill against the graffitied school desk.

"Professor, I didn't have time to finish the essay." Someone said from the back of the classroom, but Athens tutted.

"I do not have room for excuses, Mr. Holmes. Perhaps if you'd spent less time reading horoscopes under the desk in the back of the classroom, you'd have time to write my essays." Her smile pierced through everybody as she turned to face her students. "Transfiguration is not easy feat, and my N.E.W.T class is challenging, to say the least. So, for Mr. Holmes and the rest of you who did not have time for my homework, you can see the door is behind you and to the left. Use it, but only today. Do I make myself clear?" Her slammed her fist against her desk.

"Good. Let us begin to review Switching Spells." She turned around, and the lesson began. Nolan and Rhys gave each other a look as Emma wiggled at the edge of her seat, just waiting for the moment to show her intellectual prowess.

Throughout the entirety of the monster that was double Transfiguration, Thunderbird earned forty points, all from Emma, Nolan succeeded in transfiguring Rhys's ears into cacti, and Emily Hawbaker got kicked out of class for laughing too loudly when Rhys stumbled around, unable to hear anything.

All in all, it was a productive lesson.

"What a shame, I missed the end of Switching Spells." Emily said to them as they exited the classroom, still laughing as she tossed her black hair over her shoulder. Emma rolled her eyes at the girl, but the two of them hurried off together, leading the way down to Potions. Rhys self-consciously touched his ear, which elicited a snort out of Nolan.

They traveled down the hallways to the darkening staircase that led to the dungeons, where Potions classes were held. These stairs were rickety and damp, making it far more difficult to maneuver without falling. Professor Rupert Rhea taught the class, with his wiggling mustache and tufts of white hair. He greeted them at the door with a smile on his round, bulgy face, and they entered, grumbling about the faint smell of gone-off potions.

"Merlin, if we have to learn about that," Nolan pointed to a simmering, black cauldron with a thick, murky potion inside that was sat on the front table. "I might just puke."

"God, you're right." Rhys felt an assault coming upon his nose as he sat next to Nolan at a table. Emma and Emily stopped to talk to Professor Rhea about something or another, and Rhys watched everybody file into the classroom.

"Welcome, welcome!" Professor Rhea shut the door, and Rhys slumped back in his chair, waiting for death by disgusting potion.

"Ready?" Nolan asked as they packed up their belongings to head back to the common room before dinner. The rest of the school made their way back to the commons, with the Thunderbirds and the Horned Serpents headed up to their respective towers, the Wampuses to the dungeons, and the Pukwudgies near the kitchens. Rhys dumped the Potions book (which he had spilled a good bit of Draught of Living Death on) into his bag, and said, "Let's go." Emma followed them up several hallways and staircases until they reached the tower. A great, wooden door with a gold knocker shaped like a Thunderbird marked the entrance to their commons, and Rhys knocked it twice, then said, " _Mimbulus mimbletonia_."

"Indeed!" The door squeaked, then let them in. Nolan made a beeline for the most comfortable chair, which was sat right beneath the golden fireplace, right next to an identical one. Above the fireplace, a portrait of Chadwick Boot, the house's founder, was hung. Rhys saw that Emma was sat down with Emily and several other sixth years beneath the wall of house presidents. Georgia Caldwell's name was the most recent of the list (though a long line of the immense Caldwell family have been house president prior to her).

"It's been such a long day, and it's _only_ the first." Nolan leaned back in his chair as Rhys flopped into the one right next to it. The two of them were sat there for a moment, relishing in the softness of the chair and the warmth of the fire. Professor Macintosh, though a talented Charms teacher, simply didn't understand the concept of windows, or specifically how to close them. The mountainous region of Ilvermorny might protect them from peering no-maj eyes, but the biting winds started right around the first of September. "And, we have an entire Potions essay to write." He pulled out a roll of parchment and began to scribble down a bit of Golpalott's Third Law.

"We didn't get _any_ homework in Arithmancy." Emma relished as she sat on a chair in between them, pulling out her Potions textbook. "Plus, I read up about Golpalott's Third Law in the fourth year. This is going to be a breeze." She unraveled one of her own scrolls and began to write at top speed.

"If you know so much, why don't you write mine for me?" He held out his parchment, and she only stopped writing to roll her eyes at him.

"Nice try."

"It was worth it!"

"Right." Rhys pulled his own book out, but didn't open it just yet. He saw a portrait on the wall of someone who looked oddly familiar to him, and his books and papers fell out as he squinted. A portrait of a dignified woman with a small, fair face and dark, curly hair and Ilvermorny robes smiled at him, waving her wand above her to create a colorful mass of sparks. The portraits around her clapped and gasped in awe, and she smiled modestly. A little nameplate was nailed to the wooden frame that said _Adrianna Moss_. "Mom?"

"Oh, Rhys." Her voice sang, just like it used to when she had read him books or sang him little rhymes about Merlin and Morgana. "How you've grown!" As he looked at it, he didn't know whether he would cry or smile with joy. Seeing her, like this, made him think she was lying under the ground, dead, instead of in a white hospital bed with her brain too addled to remember whether he was her son or just another patient at St. Mungo's.

"Mom." He reached to put his fingers up against the paint of the canvas when a first year came barreling under him, eager to join some of his other friends. His fixed stare on the painting broke, and he saw that Nolan and Emma were standing right behind him, looking at him curiously.

"Rhys, is that your Mom? Oh, she was a wonderful witch, wasn't she?" Emma gushed in a way that made him proud and angry. "I mean, she _is_ a wonderful witch." The portrait smiled at him once again, her blue eyes twinkling with happiness. They resembled Rhys's own eyes, after all, one of the only attributes that they shared. As he had grown older, he started to look awfully like another man, a foreign man. Someone he had seen in his childhood and had just ended up forgetting.

"You okay?" Nolan patted him on the back. "If you want, we can get the painting taken down. We can talk to Constantin or something." Emma nodded fervently.

"No, no, I think it should be here." The painting sat in the middle of several smaller ones, and Rhys knew for sure that it had not been there long. The way she was painted and the way the other inhabitants looked at her made her seem more like the hero she used to be.

The hero that Rhys knows she still was.

"She belongs here." He watched her create rings of flame with her wand, bewitching each to float around each other each other like bubbles of flame.

"Who put her there?" Emma stared up at the portrait, her head cocked to the side. "And why?"


	8. Professor Slughorn's Mistake

_hi! it's a bit of a short chapter today, sorry about that. i hope you're enjoying the story._

VIII

Victoire

Victoire watched a third year bewitched onto a stretcher as her friends were being held back, crying their eyes out. The entire Gryffindor common room watched her limp hand fell off the stretcher, which elicited a scream from the girl who found her. As Head Girl, she followed Professor Longbottom (the head of Gryffindor house), Professor McGonagall, and the four prefects as they took the girl to the hospital wing.

"What happened to her?" Professor Longbottom asked, his eyebrows knitting with concern at the sight of the near-dead body. "Why is she like this?"

"Neville, I do not know!" McGonagall said in a sharp, yet concerned voice. "Madam Pomfrey should be able to fix her up, good as new." As strong as her voice was, somehow, Victoire wasn't convinced by her tone. They made their way up the stairs and into the hospital wing, where Madam Pomfrey grabbed the stretcher and deposited the girl into a bed where she checked her vitals and breathing. Victoire had unfortunately been to this part of the school far too often for her mother's liking, but Quidditch tended to do that to a person. However, from the point of view of watching someone being treated by Madam Pomfrey, the place felt too clean, too white. The sheets were clean and bright, and tapestries depicting the four houses were hung on the stone walls. The windows allowed sick or hurt students to feel the bright, warm sunlight, and they even had a decent view of the Quidditch pitch.

"She's still alive!" She shrieked, running over to her potions cabinet. "Get Professor Slughorn immediately! I need all of his antidotes. Quick, she doesn't have much time now!"

"I'll go." Victoire replied. She headed out of the wing and down a set of corridors to the dungeons. Agatha stood on a stairwell, talking to her sister in a low tone, but Victoire didn't bother to stop for her as she yelled, "Victoire, where are you going?" _Focus, get Professor Slughorn. For the girl_. When she reached the classroom, she gulped in air. From the sounds, he was teaching a particularly vicious set of third years.

"Now, now, what are you doing? Stop th - Miss Weasley? What are you doing here?" Victoire slammed open the door, her forehead dripping with sweat and her breath labored.

"H-hopital wing. Antidote. Madam Pomfrey." She whispered, and somehow, he understood. Slughorn, grabbing a leather briefcase from behind his desk, ran out of the room, causing an all out riot amongst the third years. They hurried to the door, peering their heads out and giggling at the sight of their professor trying to run up a set of staircase not entirely built for a man of his breadth. Victoire followed behind him, and the two of them ran back to the hospital wing, where the blonde girl with the twisted robes was still looking dead as ever.

"Poppy, what happened?" asked Slughorn, his voice sounding incredibly different from his usual, laughable tone. He fiddled with his briefcase, pulling out several glass flasks and a tall bottle filled with some sort of purple potion.

"I think it's Draught of Living Death. Quick, Horace, do you have Wiggenweld Potion?" She said, and the Professor's hands shook as he pulled it out of his bag. The potion radiated a bright green that nearly blinded Victoire. She watched as they dripped some into the girl's mouth. McGonagall and Longbottom watched, their faces hidden behind their palms. The Gryffindor Prefects had gone, and Markus Palomer had somehow found his way to the bedside, and he hid his eyes behind his hand.

After the droplets have hit the girl's tongue, Victoire waited on baited breath as her body writhed and shook. Sweat dripped down her forehead. Her eyes rolled back and forth, reminding Victoire of a terrifying portrait of a man with one fake eye that whizzed in circles and a mottled face that hung in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. "Madam Pomfrey, wh-what's going on?" Professor Longbottom said in a small voice.

"She's coming to. It must have been a particularly strong batch of the Draught." She replied, placing a cool towel on the girl's head, whose breaths were labored. She appeared to be alive, but only just. "Horace, is there any Draught of Living Death in your Potions stores?" Slughorn appeared to be lost for words, but Madam Pomfrey stared him down.

"Yes!" He screamed. "Yes, there was some f-for my N.E.W.T classes." The Headmistress placed her head in her hands. Madam Pomfrey did the same, and Victoire snuck a look at Markus, who nodded silently to himself.

"Go, this girl needs rest! Out, now!" Madam Pomfrey screamed after several seconds. Victoire hurried out of the wing, accompanied by Markus, McGongall, Longbottom, and Slughorn. The teachers looked harried, but they, the Headmistress especially, attempted to keep strength etched on their faces.

"Horace, do you think she'll be okay?" The Headmistress asked him, her voice filled with concern.

"I-I feel as though this could perhaps be my fault." Slughorn murmured, his fingers shaking. "I-I am-m disappointed to say that I had been drinking my nerves about teaching away when I was making the Draught of the Living Death. Perhaps, if I had been more in my right state of mind, I would not have used such a heavy hand."

"Why would you have nerves about teaching?" McGongall said in a sharp voice. "Horace, you've been teaching for over twenty years."

"I do not know. I went down to the Three Broomsticks, and I was having a chat with Madame Rosmerta, and when I left, I felt this odd feeling in the middle of my stomach." He replied, putting his head in his hands. "I understand if you would want to suspend me, Headmistress."

"Horace, as irresponsible as you were, you did not personally poison Miss Anderson, did you?" The Potions master shook his head, and she patted him gently on the back. "Then, I do not see the point in taking away a perfectly competent Potions master."

"Now, please, go back to your classes. Horace. Neville, if you would please take Miss Weasley and Mr. Palomer to Gryffindor Tower?" Professor Longbottom nodded, leaving the Headmistress and Slughorn to themselves. Victoire and Markus walked in silence, though Neville started humming uncomfortably as they approached the portrait hole.

"Now, lessons will start soon, and I would advise that you don't speak too much of this to your classmates, alright?" He said kindly, as he stopped at the sight of the Fat Lady. "Um, I'll let you two go in, I, uh, don't want to trouble the rest of the Gryffindors." He waved, his black robes trailing behind him.

"More like he doesn't know the password!" The Fat Lady yelled after him, opening the portrait hole. Victoire expected Eli, Siobhan, or Agatha to be waiting for her, but what she had not anticipated was the entire Gryffindor house waiting for her and Markus, their hands covering their mouths and some of the hiding their tears.

"Vic, what happened?" Agatha rushed up to her. "What happened to Lana?" The rest of the house leaned forward, and Victoire turned to look at Markus, who hid his face.

"She's alive. Barely." She said in a hint of a whisper. "She was poisoned. Draught of Living Death." A gasp rippled through the room, and some of them slumped back in their chairs in shock. The girl who had found Lana Anderson bursted into tears and another third year attempted to calm her down. Victoire explained everything to Eli, Agatha, and Siobhan, who had suddenly appeared around her. Students stared at her for longer than usual before heading out the portrait hole for lessons.

"Merlin, that's horrible." Siobhan shivered at the thought. "Someone used Slughorn's potion?"

"It's awful." Victoire agreed. "But, it was smart. I mean, there's a whole cauldron full of it downstairs, it would have been easy for whoever did this to grab some and just run." Agatha shuddered.

As they four of them walked down the stairs to lunch, a grim mood dampened the excitement of the first day. Scooping sprouts into her mouth, Agatha hurried out of the Great Hall, while the rest of them played with their bags and moved food around their plate. Their appetites had significantly decreased ever since Lana Anderson seemingly dropped dead in the middle of the day.

"What's going on with Hogwarts?" Siobhan asked in a quiet voice. "It used to be a safe place."

"It was probably an accident, S." Eli replied. "Hogwarts _is_ a safe place. Don't doubt that."


	9. Aurors, Mary Lewis, and Upcoming Dangers

IX

Rhys

As the days passed by at Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Rhys walked by his mother's portrait countless times. Her enigmatic smile and charming, well, charms made her a powerful figure in the Thunderbird common room. Students sat under the portrait, talking to her and asking her for advice about their homework. She answered, each and every question with a delicate smile on her painted lips and a wave of her wand. Every time he passed the painting, he felt an urge to talk to her, but then he remembered the sick, brain-addled Adrianna Moss in St. Mungo's, which made the urge disappear almost as quickly as it comes.

As September started to fade into October, Rhys found himself chewing the end of his quill and staring up at the woman on the wall. She looked up and winked at him through one, twinkling blue eye. Rhys looked away instantly. For some reason, his trust wavered when it came to his mom.

Just as he put the tip of his quill down onto the scroll to start writing his Defense essay, a scream issued from outside the wooden door. The entirety of the common room looked towards the door, as if waiting for something or someone to burst through it. A few curious individuals actually rose and opened the door, a group that Rhys joined. He found Emma standing outside of the entrance to Thunderbird tower, with a hand over her mouth and staring towards a railing, where a girl, still in her school robes, was hanging. Her torso drooped over the edge, and her long, dark hair waved against the banister. Her eyes were wide open, just like her mouth, which made her look eerily surprised. Just looking at her made Rhys want to look away and lean in closer all at the same time. The crowds began to increase until Georgia Caldwell, House President of Thunderbird, attempted to disperse them. "Someone grab a teacher, anybody!" She yelled, trying to reach the girl hanging over the edge.

Within seconds, Professor Athens and Professor Constantin arrived at the scene, the crowd parting for them. They reached the girl and slowly pulled her body from above the banister. She straightened up, but her head lolled onto her shoulder as they bewitched her onto a stretcher and Constantin magiced her up to the hospital wing. "Leave at once!" She yelled at the crowds of students until they went back to their dormitories or to the hall for dinner. "Go, go, go!" Within minutes, a group of Pukwudgies came to block off the banister. Rhys remembered seeing the girl sitting at the Pukwudgie table at dinner last night, so the action made sense. The animals were very particular to their own house, and if the victim hadn't been from their house, they probably wouldn't even bother.

"C'mon, Rhys, we should go to dinner." Emma led him down the stairs, and for some reason, he felt empty. He didn't know the girl that had been attacked. He had never seen her in his life. But, the attack felt real and close, almost like someone had done something gruesome and horrible right near his face. It felt, well, it felt personal. "Rhys, what's wrong?"

"What's happening to Ilvermorny, Ems?" Rhys asked, looking right in her brown eyes. She shrugged, for once not knowing something.

"It was probably just an accident." Rhys didn't believe her. And, from the tone of her voice, she probably didn't believe herself. "Maybe one of her friends was trying out a hex, and they overdid it."

"You saw her, Ems. You saw the way her body went over the edge, you saw the way her face was shocked. That wasn't regular magic." Rhys replied, shaking his head.

"We don't have time to play detective, Rhys. Come on, let's get to dinner, then I have to work on some Arithmancy homework." She said, increasing her pace. Rhy's mind kept straying back to the girl hanging over the banister.

The attack had hit the entire school hard. Students were bursting out into tears everywhere, and the school owlery was packed with students writing to their parents when Rhys came to send a letter to Teddy with Nolan.

"Merlin's beard, you would've thought someone died." Nolan said as he bears witnessed a girl crying her eyes out as she shakily tied a letter to a large, impatient-looking barn owl. "Constantin said she was alright, dunno why this bunch is on edge." After he said this, a terrifying seventh year frowned in their direction, and Rhys hurried to the other side of the owlery to tie the package to a great, snowy owl. She ruffled her feathers impatiently as he attached the package, but eventually swooped out into the peaks of the mountains.

"Let's go, I don't want to be late to Defense." Rhys said, trying to make his way through the crowd. The two of them rushed out of the owlery (a harder task than expected) and down several sets of staircases to get to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Emma met them inside, her head buried deep in _DEFENSE_ as she was sat in the middle of the circular room. Constantin, being about as against as the Dark Arts as anybody Rhys had ever met, filled her wall with portraits of the most well known Aurors across Europe and America. Her blackboard had messy notes of hexes and counter-jinxes scattered across it, and she had models of various Defensive objects such as Sneakoscopes and Foe-Glasses on the walls and her desk.

"Apparently, we're learning about some real hexes today!" Emma said brightly, still not looking them right in the eye. "I heard some of the fifth years talking about it."

"Constantin's got it right." Nolan replied firmly. "We should be learning hexes instead of counter-curses and theory, like those other teachers."

"Careful, Caldwell." Harrison Lord came, very literally, out of nowhere again, butting his pointed face into their conversation. "People might think you did in that poor, little Pukwudgie girl. Think about how that would play for your family's reputation." Nolan turned to him and made a rude gesture that resulted in Emma bashing his leg in.

"Go away, Harrison." Rhys said to him, tired of seeing his face everywhere. "Go back to punching first years or whatever is it you do in your free time."

"Glad to know you approve of my extracurriculars, Grayson." He replied with a rather large smirk on his face as he seated himself behind the trio. Emma still had her face in her book, and Nolan looked as though a giant cockroach had seated itself on his face (which may as well describe Harrison Lord's personality in a nutshell).

"Sit down, students!" Professor Constantin swept into the room, her dark robes, different from the other teachers' bright and colorful ones, billowed behind her. Everything about Cardea Constantin was different. Her hair was dark, somewhere between black and brown, and tied near the nape of her neck. Her almond-shaped eyes were so brown they looked black, and her long face made her look beautiful and terrifying all at the same time. Alongside Professor Athens, they made the youngest teachers currently residing at Ilvermorny. "Headmistress Picquery, who works alongside MACUSA and their countless efforts to protect Ilvermorny from attack, has recently informed me that I am to tell you exactly what happened to the young lady last night. She was attacked by Dark Magic. Incredibly Dark Magic." Constantin's eyes followed each and every one of her students, to the extent that movement became nonexistent in the room.

"See, Dark Magic still exists, no matter what fairytales your parents have told you. Dark Magic, despite our attempts to eradicate it, will always exist. This is why we must have constant viligance!" She slammed her fist on the desk for emphasis, which caused the entire class to jump in their seats. "Yes, the spell that took over Miss Lewis was Dark, very Dark and powerful. Because of this, I find it incredibly useful to learn things such as Disarming, and hexes. We will begin with the resistance of the Imperius Curse, move on to the Cruciatus curse, and finish with nonverbal spells in the next month." The rest of the lesson had all the Thunderbirds and Wampuses on the edge of their seats (very literally as Professor Constantin kept threatening to curse them).

"She keeps saying 'Dark Magic' as though that explains everything that happened to that girl." Nolan said as they exited the class. "But, she _knows_ , you know? She just _knows_." As they went down the hall and out of the castle for Herbology, they felt the late September chill from Mount Greylock seeping into their very bones. By the time they headed into the greenhouses, most of the students were disgruntled and in need of a warm fire.

"Settle down, settle down." Professor Ceres shouted at them, looking about as peeved as they come. Nolan shot a look at Rhys and Emma, the three of them knowing that they were about to be in for a rough lesson, especially when rain droplets began pelting down upon the greenhouse roof.

"Never again!" Nolan dropped in front of the fire, moving just slightly so that his face stared right at the fire. The curving, red and gold flames bounced light off his face. He closed his eyes. "I don't want to ever go out to Herbology in the rain again." Emma sat in the cushioned armchair behind him, shivering all the while.

"A-at l-least we learned ab-bout-"

"Give it up, Ems." Rhys said, and the three of them laughed, shaking water droplets out of their hair and robes. As they slouched against the cushioned chairs and rickety tables by the fire, Professor Constantin, head of Thunderbird House, walked in through the wooden door, carrying several pieces of paper in her hands. She cleared her throat, and the entire common room fell silent.

"I have several announcements, Thunderbirds. First and foremost, the first Gray Peaks weekend will be occurring during the first week of September. Any student in third year and above with the proper paperwork will be permitted to go to the village." Constantin said, posting the dates on the notice board right near the doorway. "Next, please note, Aurors will be patrolling the hallways. I encourage you to be on your best behavior in their presence. They take their jobs incredibly seriously, and for any of you to, ah, hinder their investigation would be an extremely bad choice. Lastly, you all were informed that you would be taking classes about Hogwarts and British Magical history. These classes will begin next week. Thank you." She walked swiftly out of the common room, her black robes sweeping behind her. Nolan rose, jostling people away to get to the notice board.

"I think a Gray Peaks visit is overdue. I really need to get to Jarl's." He said. "I hope they get some of them Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes over from England. Those are a real laugh."

"I, for one, need to go to the book store." Emma replied in a haughty voice. "I heard they got some new titles this year." She shivered, either from the biting rain or the prospect of new books.

"What do you think of those Aurors?" Rhys asked. "They're looking into the whole Mary thing, right?" Emma knitted her eyebrows together, a telltale sign that she was thinking hard.

"They were here on the night that we arrived at school, right?" She said, tapping her chin with her index finger. "It probably has something to do with Hogwarts and Ilvermorny, you know, the threats?"

"What kind of stuff do you think we'll be learning in British Magical history? Hope it's better than our actual History of Magic class." Nolan flicked some of the water off of his robes and sweater. "Merlin's beard, that was the most boring class I've ever taken."

"Better or worse than Divination?" Emma asked with a sly smile on her lips. Nolan glared at her. "Well, I'm off to bed. I've had a long day." She grabbed her bag and hurried towards the spiral staircase that led towards the girl's dormitory. Rhys nearly headed towards his own dormitory, thinking longingly about the warm, soft bed that awaited him before he realized that the mountain (nearly as high as Mount Greylock) of homework he had takes precedence. Sighing, he headed towards a table to put his books down, closely followed by Nolan.

"Great. Just great. I've got an essay for Herbology, I have to practice spells for Defense _and_ write an essay, and-"

"We've got Quidditch tryouts next week!" Emery Tsukuda came striding in from the other side of the common room, looking incredibly happy about this. Her black hair was swept into a shiny ponytail at the top of her head, and her arms were tucked into her skirt. "Grayson, you better be there, or you're off the team." Rhys groaned. He had forgotten about Quidditch tryouts, and he had already begun to dread them. He had played Seeker on the Thunderbird team for four years now, and they had been doing exceptionally well. However, they were two players short: one Keeper and one Chaser.

"I forgot about that." Rhys said to Emery, whose gaze was starting to turn into a glare. "What do I have to do, again?"

"You just have to be there. I need to see people who would work well with the team, which is why I need the whole team there." Emery said in a voice that screamed business. "Don't get on the wrong side of teachers, and don't get detention, Grayson."

"Yeah, got it." Rhys replied as he watched her walk off to talk to the other Chasers. He groaned again. "Our team last year was great, I wish we could have those players back." Nolan shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Won't hurt to have some new blood though, eh?" replied Nolan, who busied himself with his Transfiguration textbook.

"I suppose." The two of them, sighing periodically, set about their work with their minds oblivious to Aurors, Mary Lewis, and the upcoming dangers.


	10. Astoria and the Vexing Vanishing Cabinet

X

Victoire

"Welcome to the Gryffindor Seeker trials!" Siobhan grinned at the small crowd of students that stood before her, shivering from the cold. Victoire stood next to her Gryffindor teammates, who were all wearing their scarlet and gold robes. "I'm Siobhan, as you know, this is Victoire Weasley, Demelza Gray, and Lara Padmore, our Chasers. Fred, c'mon, Fred, Weasley is our first Beater, and Irving Padmore is our second Beater, but I, uh, don't know where he is. Anyways, we need a Seeker that will fit well with our team, so that's, uh, what we're here to do!" She clapped her hands together, which made some of the second years and third years in the group jump. Victoire took a good look at the lot of them. All the Gryffindors that turned up for the trials held brooms of varying quality and shot nervous looks to each other. They all wore cloaks of thick material and dragon-hide gloves covered their hands, yet each and every of them shivered from the brisk wind that overcame them. It was rather odd for the cold to hit them this early in October, but the entire school was too busy wrapping themselves up and lighting fires to notice.

"Now, laps, if you would!" Siobhan announced, and the group of Gryffindors rose up from the green pitch and into the darkening sky. Victoire could see who was cut out for Seeker and who wasn't. Some of them clearly hadn't spent much time on a broom. A girl started twirling, so much so that she spiraled down towards the pitch, landing heavily on her right arm. Another boy's broom jerked around so much that he ended up ramming headfirst into the wooden stands, which caused several fourth year girls to shriek out loud as he landed among them.

"This is going spectacularly well, isn't it?" Fred muttered to her, as they watched two boys run into each other and fall flat on the pitch, creating a dull _thud_ that could be heard around the grounds. Siobhan rushed over to pull all those who had fallen in the direction of the hospital wing, though some of them wandered off in different directions, clearly dizzy. After half an hour more, the Gryffindor team found themselves four potential Seekers, all of whom flew fairly well. They looped around the pitch one more time before Siobhan called them down. It was an odd mix: two of them were bold-faced fifth year girls who gripped their brooms like scepters, one of them was a golden-haired third year boy who looked incredibly confused, and the fourth one was James Potter, whom Victoire snuck a little wave at. He grinned back.

"Since there are four of you, I'm just going to have you go one at a time, and the person who gets the Snitch the fastest will get the job. Got it?" Siobhan shivered as a burst of cold wind burst through them, but powered through it as she gripped the Golden Snitch in one of her gloved hands. "You, you're going first." She pointed to one of the fifth years, who mounted her broom and kicked off. Siobhan released the Snitch into the air, and the golden sphere twinkled before disappearing from sight within seconds. The girl played fairly well. Her eyes followed the Snitch around the pitch until she swooped between the largest goalpost and leaned over the edge of her broomstick and grabbed at the flying, golden orb. She caught it, but barely. Fred shook his head as the team checked the time. The girl had taken about twelve minutes to get the Snitch, which was good, but not quite good enough. If this had been a real match, and they had needed to get the Snitch quickly, they would have been annihilated. Demelza and Lara gave Victoire a look that said this girl wasn't what they needed. The second fifth year kicked off, and she kept swerving far too much to the left. The Snitch looped circles around her leg, but she didn't seem to notice. After ten minutes, she finally caught it, but, again, the team shared a look that said everything: her flying abilities weren't cut out for Seeker. The third year boy looped around in the field in dizzying circles and ended up falling face first into the emerald grass of the pitch, while the Snitch flew near the stands. Siobhan looked incredibly frustrated as she escorted him into the castle, and the rest of the team stared right at their last hope. James Potter, looking confident as ever, kicked up off the ground and flew a lap around the field, which made a group of girls in the stands cheer loudly. Siobhan grunted, frustrated, then let out the Snitch. Within a minute, two at most, he gripped the Golden Snitch triumphantly in his hand. He threw both of his fists up into the air, which only caused the girls in the stands to clap and cheer even louder. To prove himself even further or to impress the girls in the stands, he let the Snitch out from his hand and caught it, again within a minute or two. The groups' cheers echoed through the sky, and James winked at them. Victoire wanted to let out a laugh, but from the disgruntled look on Siobhan's face, she decided against it. As he came to the ground, Siobhan whispered a hurried thanks and goodbye to all of the other candidates. The two of them stalked back to the castle, one of the girls shooting dirty looks in Siobhan's direction.

Victoire clapped James on the back and congratulated him, as do the other team members. Fred shared a look with Victoire that said it all: the eldest Potter may have had a touch more arrogance than necessary, but his talent was undeniably one of a kind. _Well, if he wins us the Quidditch Cup, then there's nothing to complain about_.

"James!" Siobhan said, grinning excitedly in his direction."Congrats, you got the job. Come to the changing room, I need to find you some Gryffindor robes." She ran off to the castle, with James hurrying behind her, still wearing a grin that went from ear to ear.

"So, that's that." Fred said, staring at the retreating figure of James Potter. "That was unexpected." Victoire stared in the same direction, feeling elated and slightly amused. _Nearly half of the team is composed of Weasley_ _children now._

"Merlin's _beard_ , he's good." Victoire replied, and Demelza nodded, staring up at the stands where James's friends were sitting. They were talking and giggling animatedly to each other, holding books and wearing Gryffindor scarves around their necks. "But, if his little fan club is going to be there every practice, I would rather have the twirling boy." Fred sniggered as they walked in the direction of the castle to the changing rooms. The sky had completely darkened at this point, with tiny pinpricks of light from the stars brightening the night sky. A bit of misty fog covered the top of the castle, which looked both ominous and elegant in the blanket of darkness

As they entered, James was already wearing some red and gold robes that had _POTTER_ emblazoned on the back. Siobhan tapped her wand on his shoulder, where the stitches fixed themselves and the dust disappeared. "I think that's good? Being honest, I'm not great at these kinds of spells." James nodded so exuberantly that he knocked over a stand filled with old broomsticks that the first years had used during Flying lessons.

"Welcome to the team, James." Fred clapped him on the shoulder. Demelza, Laura, and Victoire wrapped around him in a massive hug, while Siobhan grinned in his direction. "You better win us the Quidditch Cup this year, or we'll toss you off Gryffindor Tower."

"He's kidding." Victoire assured the boy, whose grin was starting to fade. "Now, are we going to celebrate, or not?"

"Eli, that's it." Siobhan slammed one of his books shut, and Eli jumped back, looking shocked to see the two of them standing in front of him. He was sitting in one of the rickety wooden chairs behind a desk that was covered in tall stacks of new textbooks and rolls of parchment tucked away in the corner of the Gryffindor common room. The rest of the Gryffindors were celebrating James's appointment as Seeker by eating food from the kitchens and butterbeers that Fred and Alexandra Jordan had nicked from somewhere (Victoire had never bothered to ask, nor did she really want to know.). "I'm Quidditch captain, and this is a party. You have to at least have some food." She energetically held out a cream puff that Eli eyed with caution.

"You've put Canary Cream in that. There's no way I'm eating it." He said, opening up the book and putting his nose in it again. "I'm not an _idiot_ , S. And, I've got to read all this for Ancient Runes tomorrow. I don't have time to eat."

"C'mon, Eli, just have a butterbeer or something." Victoire replied, as she saw a third year abruptly sprout feathers. "You can drink it while you study for Ancient Runes."

"No." He replied simply, adjusting his glasses. "Why are we even having a party? We didn't win anything." Siobhan nearly spitted out the butterbeer she was drinking.

" _We_ won a bloody good Seeker, that's what we won." She replied, and the two of them began to bicker, leaving Victoire the opportunity to look around the room. Fred, Lara, and Alexandra were sitting near the fire, a box of sweets sitting between them. Lily, Hugo, and the little first year named Morrigan were drinking butterbeers and giggling together at a rickety table in the corner, while Albus, James, and their friends were laughing and talking amongst each other. The rest of the Gryffindors had either taken places against the red and gold walls, or were sitting on the floor beneath the fire of the same color. All of them were talking to each other or letting out snorts at the students who randomly erupted into a canary in a puff of feathers.

The full moon was out tonight. The glowing orb burned like a silver lantern among the twinkling stars, which only made Victoire's stomach flip. It reminded her of Teddy, which in turn made her feel like a giant hole had been ripped through her. Because of that, or because of something else, she felt a strange sensation that felt like she was freezing over. The shouts and yells of Gryffindor revelers turned villainous. The beat of her heart seemed to grow louder and louder until it was the only sound she heard. Dark shadows bursted into her vision, dancing and twirling their way to make the bright common room dull and dark. A sudden urge to attack, to fight everyone in there overthrew her. She wanted to _hurt_ Eli and Siobhan for their constant need to bicker all the time. _Oh, why can't they just give it a rest?_

"Victoire?" Siobhan and Eli waved their hands in front of her face, and the beating of her heart and the urge to attack and the dark shadows disappeared, and she has left with the bright interior of the Gryffindor common room. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Victoire breathed. "Yeah, I just-just need some fresh air." She suddenly stood up and walked out of the portrait hole, leaving her two friends befuddled in her absence. Behind her, the Fat Lady yelled, "You're not supposed to be out this late! What are you doing?" She didn't look back, and instead ran down the left corridor. At this point, everybody had either gone to bed or their common room, so the corridors were relatively empty. The only sounds she heard were the voices from a portrait and the unintelligible Latin murmurings of a suit of armor. As she got frustrated with herself, she stopped right across from a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls the ballet. Victoire paced back and forth in front of it, her fingers shaking as she reached up to rub her eyes.

Nothing made sense. The dark figures and shadows across her eyes didn't make sense. The sudden urge to attack and to kill didn't make any sense. Why would she want to hurt the people that supported and encouraged her? Why would she feel the need to injure those whom she loved and cared for the most in this world? Just as her mind tried to comprehend the incomprehensible, a grand, wrought iron door appeared on the wall where she was pacing. Victoire stopped in her tracks. The door seemed imposing and terrifying, much like Hogwarts castle upon first look, but as she stared at it even more, it felt more and more inviting by the minute. Without a moment's thought to the consequences, Victoire grabbed the handle and pulled, entering into a room like nothing else she had ever seen.

The room was filled with trinkets and other objects in varying states of shabbiness from the wooden floor to the high, pointed ceiling. She walked inside, her fingers grazing over a graffitied, wooden cabinet that had several stacks of textbooks sitting on top of it. Pulling one off the stack, Victoire saw that it was from nearly a century ago and the owner of the book didn't seem to have the greatest respect for the object. Several pages were torn out, and they had doodled all over the margins. Odd drawings of headless squids and armless humans were on the first page, which made Victoire recoil in shock and put the book back down. As she headed down the row between a rather large portrait of a group of trolls and a dark cabinet, she heard a strange, echoing scream from behind her. Oddly enough, the sound disappeared just as quickly as it came. Victoire turned around in circles until she heard the noise again from the direction of the dark cabinet. _A Vanishing Cabinet. Stars, I've never seen a real one before_. She approached it, her fingers shaking as she reached out to pull the door of the cabinet open. Time seemed to slow down as the tips of her fingers touched the chilled surface of the delicate, metal handle.

She pulled.

But, the door didn't budge.

The scream returned, louder than ever, echoing from inside of the black cabinet. Then, complete silence. Victoire pressed her ear against the cabinet, hearing the shout grow louder, then it disappeared again. Pulling out her wand in one fluid motion, she pointed it towards the cabinet and hopefully yelled, " _Finite incantatem!_ " In an instant, she heard a dull _thud_ from inside the cabinet and a clicking sound that indicated the cabinet had unlocked itself was heard. She leaned forward and pulled the heavy door open to reveal a small, familiar chocolate-haired girl with half of her body missing, much like a Splinching gone wrong. Strips of flesh from her legs, arms, and torso were missing, and pints of blood seemed to pour all down her body. The dark, metal interior of the cabinet was also covered with blood stains, some of them dried already. _She must have been here a while_. She took one look at her bloody stomach and began to scream like a banshee.

"Astoria, Astoria, calm down!" Victoire said to her as she gripped the girl under her waist and knees. "I'll get you to the hospital wing." The scarlet liquid that poured down her legs and her arms had already made its way onto Victoire's robes and sweater as Astoria Grayson put one shaking hand on her shoulder.

"H-hurry, p-please." She murmured shakily before her head lolled back onto Victoire's elbows. _There is nothing I can do, I'm about as useful as a muggle when it comes to healing spells._

Victoire runned out of the strange room, the door disappearing behind her, and headed in the direction of Gryffindor Tower, then down the stairs until she reached the first floor corridor. Astoria seemed to physically deteriorate in front of her, and she desperately wished she had just listened to Mum whenever she had taught healing spells. The portraits she passed yelled at her and followed her down the stairs, but she didn't pass any teachers until she found herself right outside the hospital wing.

"Miss Weasley, wha-" Professor Slughorn's eyes went wide at the sight of Astoria, and he dropped the rather large bottle of Firewhiskey that he was holding. Victoire pushed past him in an effort to get into the wing when Madam Pomfrey started shouting.

"What is this? Why are you here so late?" She demanded with her hands on her hips until she saw a limp Astoria in Victoire's arms. "Get her on the bed!" Bringing her to the closest bed, Victoire gently placed her down on the sheets, successfully turning them from pristine and clean to soaked scarlet within seconds. Madam Pomfrey grabbed a handful of potions and began to spread it across the wounds as she muttered, "Never! Never have I seen such horrible wounds! What is it with Hogwarts?"

"Miss Weasley, I dread to ask," Professor Slughorn said as he glanced at Astoria's limp body and flinched. "What happened to Miss Grayson?"

"I found her up in this weird room in the seventh floor left corridor, inside a Vanishing Cabinet." Victoire suddenly felt a burst of cold rushing up her skin, even though none of the windows were open. "Um, she was stuck, and I got her out of the Cabinet, but she was already like this when I got her out." Slughorn's eyebrows knitted together in surprise, and he rushed off down the corridor without another word. Victoire stood shakily in the doorway of the hospital wing as Madam Pomfrey continued to place strange potions and liquids onto Astoria's wounds. The girl began to gain her consciousness back, starting with the flickering of her eyes and the moving of her fingertips. She still looked as pale as a ghost and the blood continued to flow from her arms, which made her go even whiter as she gazed down at her body.

Victoire looked over at the other beds with their pristine, white sheets and hospital corners tucked in. Lana Anderson, who looked fairly normal now, was lying down in one of the beds, sleeping deeply. A large number of potions and other liquids in flasks were sitting on her night table, presumably everything that Madam Pomfrey had had her take to restore her to health. Lana looked peaceful, utterly oblivious to the tragedy occurring several beds down from her.

Slughorn returned, this time accompanied by the Headmistress herself, wearing a tartan nightgown and a cloak wrapped over her. "Goodness, it's chilly. Why am I here?" Her vague annoyance disappeared as soon as she saw Astoria on the bed, being hastily treated by Madam Pomfrey. "What happened?" She spotted Victoire, who immediately jumped into the story.

"A Vanishing Cabinet, Minerva." Slughorn whispered, his moustache twitching. "I thought we got rid of all the Vanishing Cabinets." She shook her head pitifully.

"Miss Weasley, this room, could it possibly be the Room of Requirement?" Professor McGonagall strictly asked her, to which Victoire stayed silent for a moment. She had no idea what the Room of Requirement was, but whatever room she had found Astoria in was a place where she had never been in or had even heard of.

"Um, I suppose so." She replied, and Professor McGonagall gripped her shoulder in a comforting way.

"We should be glad you were out and about at this hour, Miss Weasley. Now, if you would proceed back to the Gryffindor dormitory, I will have your Head of House come tomorrow morning and make an announcement. I would prefer if you would keep this quiet until we announce it to the entire school." McGonagall asked her.

"Professor? Would you mind if I told Eli, Siobhan, and Agatha?" Victoire asked quietly, and the Headmistress looked towards Slughorn, who grunted in a noncommittal way.

"I'm sure Mr. Wells and Miss Mor would be trustworthy enough. I would suggest being gentle with the older Miss Grayson. I do not think she will take this well." She gestured towards the doorway, and Victoire found her way out into the corridor and up the stairs onto the seventh floor. Her mind was still back in the Room of Requirement. She kept reliving the moment where she had opened the door and found Astoria lying there in a pool of blood. _What if I hadn't come sooner? What if I didn't go down there?_

Victoire found herself standing in front of the portrait hole as the Fat Lady surveyed her with a distrustful eye. "Why've you got blood all over yourself? Filthy!" She said scornfully, to which Victoire softly said, " _Fortuna maior_." She shook her head as the hole flings open, and Victoire fell into the common room. Half of the revelers had gone now, and some of the older students had hung back to grab the remaining food and drink. They shrieked in horror at the sight of Victoire soaked in blood, and one of them even ran up into his dormitory to avoid her.

"Victoire!" Siobhan squealed and recoiled at the blood. "What happened?"

"Um, Agatha. I need to talk to Agatha." She mumbled, and the chocolate-haired beauty stood up in one of the rickety, wooden chairs with a Potions book in her hand.

"What happened?" She asked gently, and Victoire felt sick just thinking about Agatha having to visit her sister in the hospital wing.

"Astoria. A-Astoria got stuck in a Vanishing Cabinet down the corridor, and I-I found her and I took her to the hospital wing a-and. . ." Victoire's voice trailed off, but Agatha went as pale as Nearly Headless Nick.

"Astoria?" Agatha replied weakly. She looked around the common room for a second before dropping the textbook and running out of the portrait hole, still in her nightgown. Siobhan pushed her hands out to stop her, but it was already too late."She got stuck in a Vanishing Cabinet?" Eli says thoughtfully, holding a stack of books in one hand.

"Yeah, so?"

"Well, Vanishing Cabinets are, well, they're considered incredibly dangerous." Eli replied, looking at the ground. "Dark Wizards used to use them, as well as highly talented Aurors. I don't understand why Hogwarts would own one."

"Why would a Vanishing Cabinet be dangerous? Aren't they just a means of transporting things from place to place?" Siobhan questioned. "I think they used to use them if Death Eaters would come calling. You know, the wizard in question would just pop into it and suddenly appear in a safe place."

"Well, if they're in perfect working condition, then they work like a charm." Eli replied matter-of-factly. "But, if they're broken, like most of them are now, they can turn into a nightmare. I read something in the _Evening Prophet_ about people getting injured through malfunctioning Vanishing Cabinets. It's a bit like a really horrible Splinching, right?" He glanced at Victoire, who nodded gravely.

"That's what Astoria was like."

"Merlin's beard, that's horrible." Siobhan shuddered at the thought. The trio kept silent for several seconds, thinking about Splinching and Vanishing Cabinets.

"I'm going to bed." Victoire abruptly said, and she headed towards the spiral staircase that led to the girls' dormitories. Some of the other girls who were walking up to their rooms eyed her with distaste, but her mind raced too fast for her to even bother with the bloody skirt and robes she was wearing. Eli's notes on Vanishing Cabinets made her feel even worse. _If they're highly dangerous objects, they wouldn't have them just lying around in Hogwarts, would they? Who put it there? And, why?_ Questions penetrated her mind up as she pulled off her robes and pulled on a pair of pajamas. They seemed to jab at her sides when she yanked the covers up to her chin, and they kept poking at her as she tried to fall asleep.


	11. The Breakouts

XI

"Now, really! Grayson, Caldwell, put those down!" Professor Athens shouted indignantly, with her hands firmly planted on her hips. "And, pay attention!" Nolan dropped his wand (which he was using to sword-fight with Rhys) onto the floor, and it made a loud _bang_ , shooting out sparks. Emma turned around to narrow her eyes at the pair of them, which made Emily laugh and the Professor frown.

"Now, when when the pair of them have decided to _focus_ , we can begin." Her frown seemed to be even more permanent as she started her lesson on Human Transfiguration, which Emma seemed to be an expert at. She transfigured her thick, dark hair into wispy locks of blonde with ease, while Nolan ended up turning his eyebrow purple and spent the rest of class trying to make it right.

As usual, the two of them began to bicker as soon as they exited the classroom. Emma's hair was back to its bushy state, while Nolan's eyebrow was only a slightly lighter shade of purple.

"Nolan, you're going to fail your N.E. if you don't pull your act together! I can't keep giving you my notes because you don't pay attention!" Emma hissed at him as they passed a particularly foul-mouthed ghost, who swooped over and through them. Rhys felt like an icy bucket of water had been tossed over his head as the three of them shivered with distaste at the feeling of the ghost. "Nolan? Are you listening?" She waved her hand in front of Nolan's glazed eyes. He was staring at a group of girls, all of them were clutching the latest copy of the _American Prophet_ in their hands. They whispered behind their hands, looking half terrified, half frightened, and Nolan increased their terror by striding over to them and yanking the paper out of their hands. Emma groaned, leaning behind Rhys as though to shield herself from being associated with Nolan.

"What's up with this?" Nolan asked the girls, who raised their eyebrows at him. One of them even leaned closer into the group, as though Nolan were about to attack them himself.

"Some breakout in Azkaban. Happened last night." A girl with large, green eyes and chocolate-colored hair said to him, with her arms crossed over her chest. "Breakouts haven't happened in over twenty years, so the _Prophet_ is going crazy about it."

"Azkaban?" Rhys walked over to him, and they both poured over the rather short news article on the first page.

 **BREAKOUT IN AZKABAN**

MACUSA reported that a breakout occurred late last night in Azkaban. Three high-security prisoners escaped from the clutches of Aurors, and the British Ministry of Magic seems to be at a loss to what happened. The Wizarding prison, which is located in the icy waters of the North Sea, has recently made changes that make the presence of Dementors illegal under Britain's Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, who said this last night, "This terrible tragedy that has occurred last night that greatly affects the lives of many of our citizens. We urge all of you to heighten your security and protect your loved ones. Thank you." Samuel G. Quahog, President of MACUSA, has also made this statement, "I assure you, my grateful citizens of the American Wizarding World, that I will do my very best to continue keeping you as safe as I possibly can. In the meanwhile, I highly encourage you to practice safety procedures in your families and have a mandatory curfew. Thank you, and I wish my very best to everybody." The _American Prophet_ has reached out to both governments, but neither agreed to give further comment.  
Several of the prisoners who escaped the island were allies of the group formerly known as the 'Death Eaters', who were under the control of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Their names and offenses have been listed.

Below the article, three pictures of prisoners were shown, their dark and brooding faces leering up at readers. "Mass breakout?" Emma, who had finally given into her curiosity, leaned over to read the paper. The girls that Nolan had taken it from stalk away, still whispering behind their hands.

"Merlin's beard." Rhys sweared under his breath as he stared at a dark, long-haired head of a man named Rodolphus Lestrange. He sneered at the camera, which made Rhys want to vomit all over the paper. People like him shouldn't be out, roaming the streets.

"I know him." Nolan flicked his fingers in the direction of a feral-looking man. He growled in the direction of the camera, then smirked. "Fenrir Greyback, I know him." Emma's eyebrows knitted together, which was a strong sign of when she was in deep thought.

"He was a werewolf, that's what this says." She replied instantly, pointing to where it said _Known Werewolf_ right below his name. "Hang on, I think I've got it." But, instead of telling them exactly what it is she has got, Emma rushed down the crowded hallway in the direction of the library.

"Does she ever tell us anything?" Nolan scoffed, and Rhys led the way back to Thunderbird tower. They passed groups of students everywhere who were reading the news article intently, and some of the first years bursted out into tears randomly, which Rhys found odd. Sure, the so-called 'Death Eaters' came out of Azkaban, but there wasn't much they could do. A weird, exciting feeling bubbled up inside of him. _What if he could catch the escapees? What if_ he _could be a hero in this world?_

"Nols!" Harrison Lord said from behind them, and the feeling of excitement disappeared, like water through fingers. "How are the two of you? Hear the big news?"

"Why so cheerful, Lord?" Rhys snapped. "Some of your pals got out of prison last night?" To his utter dismay, Harrison let out a large, false laugh that made a second year run away in terror.

"You just wait and watch, Grayson." Harrison swept a lock of dark hair off his forehead, then stuck both his hands into the pockets of his trousers. The movement seemed practiced and perfected, but also appeared more natural than ever.

This was a perfect explanation of Harrison Lord.

"Mr. Lord!" Professor Constantin came striding down the hallway with her dark robes billowing behind her. Her face was contorted with anger behind sheets of dark hair. "What are you doing?"

"What?" He stared at her in confusion, and she came forward, her hands on her hips. Nolan hid his sudden burst of laughter behind an ill-disguised cough.

" _You_ have detention. My office. Now!" She shouted at him. Harrison lazily strolled towards her office, shooting them a look behind her back. Constantin turned back to Nolan and Rhys, who kicked his friend in the leg and stood up straight. "Mr. Grayson, Mr. Caldwell. Get to class!" Before she could give them a detention, Rhys hurried down the hallway to the common room, Nolan following close behind him.

"How 'bout that breakout?" Nolan whispered, even though the hallway was virtually empty. "Greyback, and his team. I mean, how did they escape that place? Azkaban is supposed to be the most secure place in the Wizarding World." He shuddered as he he knocked the Thunderbird knocker twice and said, " _Mimbulus Mimbletonia_."

"Aurors go down there, right?"

"Yeah, don't they haul boats up there and just Apparate onto them, then get onto the island?" Nolan replied, pulling out an armload of parchment rolls from his bag. Rhys tapped his quill thoughtfully on his chin.

"You know, it would be fairly easy for them to get out of their cells and hop on a boat, right?" He suggested. Nolan nodded in agreement, but a loud voice from behind them tutted. As they both turned around, they were faced with Emily Hawbaker, who invited herself to sit down at the table.

"That's ridiculous. You can't honestly expect the security at Azkaban to be _that_ bad. They would have breakouts all the time." Emily shook her head. "My mom, she worked there for a time. They switch around the Aurors every couple of weeks, just so that nobody gets too desperate. It's a horrible place, or so she's told me."

"What's it like?" Rhys leaned in to listen, and a smile crept up onto her face, one that said she has got a secret and everybody just needed to know it.

" _Well_ , what I've heard is this: Azkaban is dark and damp, the walls are grey stone and they're impregnable. The inside of the cells are dark and gloomy. There's all this mold on the wall, you know, since it's in the middle of the North Sea."

"Ah, yes, so terrifying. _Mold_." Nolan sniggered as he unrolled his Transfiguration essay. Emily pointedly ignored him.

"The cells are locked with magic that even _Alohomora_ can't unlock. They put every protective spell and charm that can even go on a place like that, and the Aurors keep updating the spells every single day. It's maddening and depressing." Emily said, her voice lowering to a dramatic whisper. "I've heard that most prisoners go mad during their first week. Not many last long after that."

"That's horrible." Rhys winced at the thought of it. "So, then, how did they get away?"

"I haven't got a clue." Emily shrugged. "My mom wrote me a letter this morning, she said that she's been dispatched to the prison and can't say anything

"Put that away!" Georgia Caldwell stormed over to them, looking livid. Her hands were planted on her hips in an incredibly similar fashion to Professor Athens. "Put that _stupid_ news article away! We shouldn't scare the first years." She gestured towards a small group of them sitting on the floor, and Rhys was hesitant to point out that they all have copies of the newspaper in their hands.

"Oh, go away, Georgia." Nolan snapped. "It's not a crime to read, now, is it?" She yanked the newspaper right out of his hands and stalked off to toss it in the trash.

"Your cousin's lovely, Nols." Emily replied.

"Shut up."

After the breakout in Azkaban, most of Ilvermorny seemed on edge throughout October. Students began to travel in packs, and teachers would sometimes accompany groups of students to their classes. The Grey Peaks weekend had been cancelled and moved to later in the month, which had greatly angered Nolan ("What nutter would be stupid enough to attack us near Ilvermorny grounds?"). Emma had begun to spending her lunch periods and every one of her breaks in the library, which had meant that Rhys had been left in the company of Nolan and Emily, who would insist on arguing about what the Azkaban escapees would be doing and how they could stop him. In fact, they had brought one of their arguments into Transfiguration, which hadn't pleased Professor Athens at all.

"Sit down!" She said sharply, on one dreary, October day. "Enough about the Azkaban idiocy. They will be caught by MACUSA, just you wait."

"But, Professor!" Nolan shouted. "Shouldn't we know more about them, just in case we do catch them?" Athens turned around to give him a sharp look.

"Mr. Caldwell, I have said this earlier and I will say it until the day they are caught: The three escapees from Azkaban will be caught by the Aurors from the Magical Congress of the United States of America. They will not be caught by untrained sixth years from school." She stared critically at him before waving her wand at the blackboard. An intricate diagram of a tutorial about how to change the thickness of hair appeared. "Do not display your moronics for all the world to see, Caldwell."

"Professor?" Rhys stuck his hand up in the air, with the intention of defending his friend. "Why do you say that? Why couldn't we find the killers? Just because you think we're not capable doesn't mean we are." Emma hit him in the leg, while Nolan and Emily ducked under a table to stop laughing.

The look Professor Athens gave him lights a fire throughout the class, and everybody quit talking and began to work furiously for the next forty minutes.

"She's going to give you a detention next time, you know that, right?" Emma pointedly said to him as they exited the classroom. "Just because you want to, I don't know, _defend_ Nolan does not mean you have to provoke her."

"Oh relax, Ems. And, thanks, Rhys." Nolan clapped him on the back.

Emma rolled her eyes.


	12. The Minister Comes to Hogwarts

XII

"Just a second!" Victoire saw the flick of Siobhan's shiny black hair going down the stairs to the common room as she pulled on her robes. Everybody else had left the dormitory, leaving her alone in the circular room as she pulls on her socks. The four-poster beds were all up against the walls, and she saw the little personalizations that everybody had put up over the years. Siobhan's bed was surrounded by moving poster of her favorite Quidditch team, the Holyhead Harpies, flying around the emerald colored pitch. It was a rather aged poster, with the edges fraying and some of the team members retired. Victoire saw the distinctive, bright red hair of a younger Aunt Ginny, who had played on the team for several years. Agatha's side of the room was covered with moving pictures of her friends and family, which Victoire strode over to the other side of the room to look at. She nearly laughed when she looked at all the pictures that Agatha had taken with her camera when they were younger. One picture had Siobhan, Eli, and Victoire laughing as they sat near the lake, and she ran her fingers over their small faces. They had been in at least first or second year at this point. The picture right above it was one of the last pictures that Agatha's camera ever took, and it was a shot of the four of them warming themselves by the fire in the Gryffindor commons. All their faces looked like they were halfway between growing up and being children, and suddenly, a great feeling of nostalgia hit Victoire like a Stunning Spell. All those years in the classroom, all those years beside the fire and lake, and all those years around the same people, the same teachers, and the same _everything_. It finally hit Victoire that everything was going to change as soon as she left.

And it hurt.

She noticed that one of the pictures on the wall was missing, and, when she looked down, she spotted a picture sitting on Agatha's nightstand. As she picked it up, she realizes that it was a shot of a younger looking Agatha and Astoria, laughing and embracing in front of their old home in America. Victoire could almost imagine Agatha pulling it down in the middle of the night and looking at it.

A loud, excited scream echoed up the stairs and into the open door of the dormitory, throwing Victoire out of her thoughts. She grabbed her belongings and hurried down the stairs, where the common room was nearly empty. A few stragglers who needed to study were sitting at the rickety tables as she hopped out of the portrait hole and into the seventh floor corridor.

As she hurried down the staircases and through a shortcut to get down to the first floor, she passed the hospital wing, where Professor McGonagall, Professor Longbottom, and Madam Pomfrey were talking to a tall man in purple robes with a golden earring. _Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic_. Part of Victoire wanted to walk into the room and start asking questions, but the group of them began talking in hushed voices. She leaned against the stone walls near the door of the hospital wing, pretending to look over an old copy of the _Daily Prophet_ that she had found in the bottom of her bag.

"This is the girl, then?" The Minister's low, deep voice filled the room as the four of them looked over Astoria Grayson's limp, unconscious body. "It was a Vanishing Cabinet?" Madam Pomfrey nodded.

"Kingsley, I assure you that I assumed all the Vanishing Cabinets had been destroyed after the War, especially those at Hogwarts. Clearly, I was mistaken." Professor McGonagall acknowledged. "But, I think we can all agree, we have a problem on our hands. Lana Anderson? Astoria Grayson? This could be some kind of sick, twisted game."

"You, you don't believe it's _them_ , right?" Madam Pomfrey asked in a high, scared voice. "You know, the-"

"Death Eaters?" The Minister finished, which was followed by a tiny gasp from Madam Pomfrey. "I don't think so. I would a hazard a guess to say that anybody who's doing this has a similar agenda."

"Why are we assuming that these are dark wizards?" Professor Longbottom asked softly. "These could just be accidents. A girl is found nearly dead because of a potion that someone in the castle had brewed. It would have been easy for someone to mix up vials or something." He faltered at the look on Professor McGonagall's face.

"Neville, as Headmistress, I do not have the luxury to believe that these two events are simply accidents! In all of our years as a school, students have not been dropping dead out of nowhere or been stuck in Vanishing Cabinets." She said strictly. Madam Pomfrey squeaked and hurried towards a cabinet to get some potions for Astoria's wounds.

"Now, Minerva, I have to say that we should not be so quick to assume that these are indeed done by the same perpetrator." She makes an irritated tut, but Shacklebolt holds his hand out. "But, Neville, I do agree with our Headmistress. These two events were not a coincidence. I can confirm this."

"You-what?" McGonagall sputtered as the two professors turned to face Shacklebolt. "What do you know, Minister?"

"The Ministry of Magic has been receiving strange letters, much like the one you showed me at the beginning of the semester, Minerva." The Minister nodded in her direction. "I passed them by my top Aurors, Potter, Weasley, and even some of our trainees. I did not share this widely, as I did not want to cause a panic among our wizarding community. However, we have found authenticity with some of the letters, and we believe that these are serious threats." At this point, Madam Pomfrey's gasps had become even louder, and even the professors looked shocked at this news.

"You don't mean to say-" Madam Pomfrey started quietly.

"Death Eaters? As I said, I believe whoever is responsible for these senseless acts has a similar agenda." He checked a rather large, golden watch on his wrist and sighed. "I have a meeting with several Aurors about last night's events, and I don't wish to anger them." He strode out of the room, and Victoire tried her best to blend in with the wall and read the _Prophet_ as he passed very close to her. She could have sworn that the Minister looked at her strangely, but he didn't bother to stop her as he hurried through the corridors of Hogwarts. Victoire decided to get down to the Great Hall. She didn't fancy being on the wrong side of the Headmistress, especially after hearing what she just heard.

The Minister's words kept running through her head. _Similar Agenda? Death Eaters? Last night's events?_

What the hell was going on?

Victoire ran into the Great Hall just as everybody was getting up to leave. Lorian Walsh hit her in the shoulder as he passed, but her mind was too busy to even think about hitting him back. Agatha, along with Siobhan and Eli, were sitting at the Gryffindor table, right under the dreary, rainy sky. Siobhan waved at her with a concerned look on her face, while Eli lazily looked up at her. Agatha, on the other hand, looked horrible, with dark circles under her eyes and her hair frizzy, unkempt.

"What happened? I thought you were right behind me." Siobhan hissed as Victoire sat down and grabbed a piece of toast.

"Listen." Victoire explained everything that happened in the hospital wing, and even Agatha, who hadn't paid attention to a word they had said for a while, leaned in to listen to what they said. "Can you believe it?"

"The Minister of Magic came and said that someone with a dark magic influence is back?" Eli questioned weakly. Victoire nods.

"That-that can't be true. We can't have another war. The world is nearly perfect now, after the Second Wizarding War, and another war would ruin that." Siobhan said, spooning scrambled eggs into her mouth quickly. "It would totally throw off the balance of things."

"Which is exactly what they want, no doubt." Agatha grimly said, and Eli placed a comforting hand on her back. "To throw off the balance, cause chaos. That's what dark wizards do."

"Let's not take this out of hand, alright?" Eli warned them. "Plus, we have to go."

"What?"

"We have that Ilvermorny class in a minute, and we're going to be late." He explained quickly, as the four of them rose from the table and hurry out of the hall. From what Eli said Victoire gathered that the special class would be taught on an empty classroom on the fourth floor.

"Do you reckon that the headmistress will be teaching us?" Siobhan asked.

"I think one of the teacher from the school will be teaching." Victoire suggested. They passed a group of first years who looked scared out of their minds, but for what reason, Victoire had no idea. Each one of them held today's copy of the _Daily Prophet_ , which she suddenly had an urge to read. "Do any of you have the paper from this morning?"

"Nope." Siobhan dug through her bag, but turned up empty. "Oh, by the way, we've got Quidditch practice tonight. I told Fred, who I told to tell Irving, and I told Demelza, who will tell Lara. Probably. Can you tell James?"

"Yeah, no worries." Victoire assured her as they hurried up the stairs onto the fourth floor. Again, they passed a harried crowd of students, all of them gripping the latest _Daily Prophet_. "Why does everybody have that newspaper?"

"It's probably just a Quidditch thing." Eli assured her, which wasn't much comfort at all. Victoire tried to lean over the shoulder of a group of Ravenclaw girls, but one of them spotted her peeping and gestured for her group to move. "Victoire, come on." She reluctantly turned towards the classroom and walked in with the three of her friends.

Most of her year was already seated in the long rows of desks, and the only empty seats were in the front of the classroom, which was Eli's favorite place and Siobhan's least. Lorian Walsh, along with his two cronies, sneered in their direction, which Siobhan responded with a rude gesture in his direction. Eli kicked her shin and followed Agatha to the front of the room, where an empty blackboard and a cleared out, wooden desk were sat. Whoever their teacher was going to be, they weren't in the classroom. As Victoire sat down, she noticed today's copy of the _Prophet_ in the hands of Markus Palomer. He set it down on the desk in front of him and pulled out an Arithmancy book.

"Hey, Markus, do you mind if I take this?" She asked him, and he nodded noncommittally. "Thanks." Victoire turned the paper over, and her heart nearly skipped a beat. Pictures of three grave-looking prisoners wearing dark, ripped robes stared up at her, with a headline that read _AZKABAN PRISONERS ESCAPED: MINISTRY IN TURMOIL_. The article highlighted how three former Death Eaters, one of them a dangerous werewolf, had escaped from Azkaban late last night. They had killed several Aurors that were on sight, and one Auror in training (Victoire's heart nearly stops at this point) was injured. When she leaned over to show it to her friends, the whole class went silent and ducked their head down.

A woman with wavy blonde hair and sharp eyes walked in the room, her shoes clicking against the stone of the classroom floor. Her eyes glared right into Victoire's very soul, making her feel like she has done something wrong. Striding to the front of the room, the woman glared at each and every person in the room. To Victoire's side, Eli straightened up.

"Children. My name is Amelia Athens, and I am the Transfiguration teacher and Deputy Headmistress of Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." She paused, which only created tension. Her voice reminded Victoire of a stricter, more American version of Professor McGonagall. She felt none of the warmth and kindness that the Headmistress of Ilvermorny had possessed. "However, my job here is to teach you about Ilvermorny. Our school was our special place, and I am honored to teach you our wonderful and enlightening history. Let us begin." She conducted the class with a certain poise and grace that many teachers didn't have. Siobhan particularly liked the moment when she bewitched a stack of books to slam down on the desk in front of Lorian because he wasn't paying attention.

"She's brilliant!" Eli's eyes were round and wide as they exited the classroom. Agatha looked slightly less disheveled and more hopeful, as though something about that lesson refreshed her, and Siobhan was nodding in appreciation of the teacher. Victoire's head was still back in the classroom, listening to Professor Athens talk about the Irish beginnings of Ilvermorny. "Bloody brilliant!" As Victoire nearly placed her foot in a trick stair, she remembered the newspaper in her bag. She rifled through ink pots and quills in her bag until she found the now crumpled page under her Transfiguration textbook.

"Look at this!" She hissed to the other three, and Agatha went from hopeful to even more depressed in a manner of seconds. Siobhan let out a small shriek, while Eli ran his thin fingers through his dark, curly hair.

"Victoire, is Teddy alright?"


	13. Rhys's Dilemma

XIII

Rhys

"Welcome to the Quidditch tryouts!" Rhys stood behind Emery and the rest of his team on the emerald grounds. "If you are not ready to be a Keeper or a Chaser, then I suggest you scurry. Go on, go!" A couple of disgruntled Thunderbirds stalked off the field and towards the castle. The Quidditch field was right behind the castle, and the Thunderbirds had a wonderful view of it from their tower. The large golden and silver hoops that stood on either ends of the field looked vaguely threatening, while the wooden stands were filled with students from all the houses who wanted to watch the trials. The hazy, October chill rushed through them, so everybody was wearing their thick cloaks and scarves. Rhys looked up to see greying clouds, which could only mean that they were in for a rainy couple of weeks.

He was standing behind Ethan Thayer and Emily Hawbaker, the two tallest members of the Thunderbird Quidditch team, so his view of the group that was trying out was limited. He tried to lean over to look at them, but all he could see were the generic Ilvermorny robes of cranberry and blue.

"I'm Emery, your Quidditch captain and Chaser. This is Rhys, Seeker. Emily, Chaser. Margaux and Ethan, our Beaters. One of you will be a Chaser, and another, a Keeper. Got it?" Emery announced to the group, and they all nodded in unision. "Alright, laps!" She clapped her hands together repeatedly until the Thunderbirds mounted their brooms and kicked up off the ground. This seemed to be the right test, for Rhys could see who was good and who was, well, not. A young boy, perhaps a second or third year (first years were barred from owning brooms), looped around the field, only to land painfully in the wooden stands next to several scared-looking third year girls. They screamed as soon as he landed next to them, and they scooted off the stands and onto the grounds. Rhys distinctly heard Emery grunt in a dissatisfied manner.

For the next several moments, students began to drop like flies. Some of them ran into the stands, while others simply spiraled down onto the ground. One of the boys who was trying out for Keeper seemed vaguely familiar to Rhys, but all he could see was a slightly dented broom and a flash of blonde hair.

"Alright, alright!" Emily gestured for everybody to come down to the ground, and Rhys finally saw the group of Thunderbirds clearly. Most of them were faces that he could recognize, but could never put a name to, except one exceptionally tall boy with shocks of bright blonde hair. Nolan Caldwell grinned bashfully at Rhys from behind a gaggle of fourth years, and he grinned back at his friend, thoroughly surprised. "If you're here, I'm guessing you haven't spectacularly fallen, so I need all the Chasers on this side and all the Keepers on that side, got it?" The students separate themselves into groups. Emily, Margaux, and Ethan headed towards the mass of Chaser-hopefuls, while Emery and Rhys walked towards the Keepers. There were only three of them.

"I didn't know you were trying out!" Rhys said to his friend. Nolan was staring at the large hoops on either side of the field, the sky, decidedly anywhere that wasn't Rhys's face. "Are you any good?"

"I guess." Nolan muttered. "I dunno if I'm good enough for Thunderbird, though."

"You'll be fine." Rhys said to him, which didn't seem all that comforting in hindsight.

"Ready?" Emery asked in his direction, and he gave her a thumbs up. "Alright, Keepers, you each get five penalty shots. It's simple: the person who gets the Quaffle in the most will get the job. Got it?" Nolan, a third year girl with wavy brown hair, and a fifth year, burly boy with an aggressive look on his face all mounted their brooms and kicked up off the ground. They flew a loop around the field, and all stopped in front of the three hoops on the far side of the pitch. Emery and Rhys flew over to them with a Quaffle in the former's hand. "Alright, Seeker Grayson, who do you pick to go first?"

"Um, the fifth year, I suppose." Rhys hesitantly said. The burly boy flew up to the middle hoop in a readied stance. Emery threw the Quaffle with a certain elegance, and he caught it. He caught one, two, three, four shots. On the last shot, Emery feinted, and he completely missed.

"Shame." She said brightly. "He was doing well. You, next!" She chose the girl, who looked vaguely green. She caught one, two, three shots, missing the first and the last one. The girl hung her head in shame and stalked off the field, her broom dragging in the grass below her. Nolan flew up, looking nervous as ever. His hands were shaking. His broom was quivering beneath him. Even his feet were shivering, ever so slightly. "Ready?"

He nodded.

She threw the Quaffle towards him, and he expertly blocked it. After this, his confidence only seemed to increase. He knocked one, two, three, four goals with his hand and even kicked the last penalty shot away. Rhys looked over to Emery, and they silently nodded to each other. Nolan was the clear winner. "All right!" Emery yelled. "Caldwell, come here, we need to fit you for some robes." The boy seemed ecstatic, and Rhys flew over to him and knocked the front of his broom.

"Congrats, man, you did it!" He said. Nolan nodded as the two of them land on the emerald grass of the pitch, right next to Hank Fisk, the Chaser that was chosen by Emily, Margaux, and Ethan. His cheeks were tinged pink with joy.

"Fisk, Caldwell, meet me in the changing room. Let's get you some Thunderbird robes." Emery said to the two of them. A faint smile played on her lips, which was about as happy as she ever was.

"Nolan, Rhys!" A loud voice carried over to them, and the bushy-haired, slightly chubby figure of Emma Kaur came running towards them.

"I got it!" At the sight of Emma, a smile erupted on Nolan's face. "I did it, I'm Keeper!"

"Oh, that's amazing, Nolan!" The two of them leaned together, as though to give each other a hug, but ended up just patting each other on the back. Emma awkwardly coughed, then walked to Rhys. Nolan walked with Hank and Emery to the changing rooms.

"He actually did it, didn't he?" She said quietly. "I mean, it's not that I didn't expect him to do it, but it's weird, you know?" Her words seemed to run her over, which was typical of her, but there was a nervous edge to her words that Rhys found odd. _Why are they acting so weird?_

Rhys was sat in one of the rickety tables in the Thunderbird common room with his homework spread over the table in front of him. N.E.W.T level Potions books were opened in front of him, while an Astronomy calendar was tucked into one of his Transfiguration textbooks. A half-finished roll of parchment about the properties of Amortentia sat right out in front of him, which he wasn't at all keen on finishing. Attempting to explain love in simple terms was decidedly difficult. Quidditch trials ran longer than expected, and his workload was starting to increase at a steady rate, which wasn't helping with his stress. Frustrated, Rhys slammed his inky quill onto the table and looked around at the common room. He heard rain pounding down onto the windows, _tip tap, tip tap_. Emma was sitting in a plush, blue sofa with Emily, and the two of them were laughing and talking with one another. Georgia Caldwell was bossing some first years around (as usual), while Nolan was nowhere to be found. Margaux, Ethan, and Hank were doing their Potions essays together near the fireplace, and another group of fifth years were pelting chocolate frogs at each other. The yells from them punctuated the white noise that filled the common room, which was causing Rhys to blot the ink on his paper every so often. In addition to that, there was a soft tapping coming from an unknown location that was driving him crazy. Every other sentence, he felt the need to throw his quill down and call it quits for the night.

Just as he turned his eyes around the room in an effort to procrastinate his work, he saw that a tiny, tawny owl was softly tapping against the window to his right. It kept hitting its body against the window, which was making the tapping noise that he kept hearing. "Oh, calm down, midget." He muttered as he yanked the window open.

"Why is it so cold?" Someone's voice carried throughout the common room. "Close the damn window!" Rhy yanked the owl from the rain outside and slammed the door shut. Droplets of water covered all of his homework, and it had completely ruined the ink on his brand new essay.

"You better have something good." He hissed to the owl, who just flapped its wings. The letter that it was holding was completely wet, and the ink on the front that must have spelled out _RHYS_ in shaky handwriting was smudged completely. The owl flapped its wings importantly as Rhys let go of it and nestled against a stack of books.

The letter that he held in his hand was from nobody he knew. The healer that took care of his mother always put a simple _R_ on all of the letters addressed to him, and he wasn't in correspondence with anybody else. Slitting open the letter with his fingers, he pulled out one, thick piece of parchment that had a single line was scrawled across it. His heart started to pump and his fingers started to shake as soon as he laid eyes on the words in front of him.

 _Mark this year as the year of death, for you will join your mother in taking the last breath._

He dropped the letter onto the space on the floor next to the owl, who was still flapping its tiny wings. "Up to the owlery, with you." He shoved the threatening letter into his pocket and grabbed the owl from the table, which proved to be a hard task. The tawny thing was too small for his fist and ended up floating away above his head. Rhys clapped his hands in several failed attempts to grab it out of the air while a first year girl said, "Oh, look at that owl, isn't it cute!"

"Come on, let's go!" He yanked the small owl out of the air and headed to the middle of the common room, tapping Emma on the shoulder once he got there and smiling at Emily. "Hey. Take a walk with me, will you? I need to go up to the Owlery."

"Of course." She pushed herself up off the couch, and the two of them headed towards the wooden doors and out in the hallways. "That owl is, well, um, wonderful."

"It's a right pain in the ass." Rhys corrected, and she nodded in agreement. "So, um, I need your help." They passed a clanking suit of armor and a circle of ghosts who were talking in hushed tones.

"I assumed so. I mean, going to the owlery isn't a two person job." She explained. "What is it you need?" Rhys produced the letter from his pocket, and he noticed that his fingers were still shaking ever so slightly. Her face changed dramatically as she read it. Her eyes widened, and her hand went to cover her mouth, which was open in shock.

"I know, it's bad." He said, and she shook her head fervently.

"It's worse, someone knows about your mother." Emma whispered, her tone filled with worry. She waved around the bit of parchment. "Who knows about your mother?"

"Just you, Nolan, and Professor Picquery. Everybody else thinks she's dead or missing, and they won't attribute me to the painting in the common room because my last name is from my father." Rhys explained. "'Mark this year as the year of death'? What is this?"

"It could just be junk mail, you know, the stuff that someone would send out as a prank or a joke." This wasn't a joke, and they both knew it. "You should take it to the Headmistress."

"Are you jo-?" Rhys hissed. They were walking up the staircase to the Owlery, and he immediately stopped talking as a group of Wampuses passed them. "Are you joking? I can't just walk up to her office with a vaguely threatening letter and ask her to catch the perpetrator." As soon as he said the last word, Emma's eyes went wide.

"The owl, give me the owl!" She shouted, and Rhys attempted to get a grip on the wriggling lump of fur in his hands. "Tawny, small. Could be something from California, they prefer smaller owls out there. _But_ , how did this owl get from California to Boston? The rains are getting heavier, and I read that there was fog in that area, which would have made the journey longer than eight to ten hours, judging by the size and weight of this owl." They were inside the owlery now, surrounded by bales of hay and little holes for each of the school owls in the circular room. There was another girl and boy standing on the other end of the owlery, but they left as soon as they saw that they had company.

"Emma," Rhys took the owl out of her hands and placed it in one of the empty holes in the wall, where it kept running into the stone walls and tripping over its feet. He gripped her hands in effort to calm her down. "It will be all right, got it? Don't stress out."

"Someone's got to." She muttered, but didn't take her hands out of his. "We'll find this person, Rhys, I promise, we will." Someone cleared their throat loudly from the entrance and Rhys dropped Emma's hands, then turned to see Nolan, who looked utterly irritated. He even dropped the letter that he was carrying, which seemed to annoy him further. He grabbed it up off the ground, violently pushed past Rhys, and pulled down a large, black owl from above them.

"Sorry to interrupt." Nolan sneered, which was so different from his usual bright voice. Emma raised her eyebrow at Rhys. "I'll go, it looks like you were having a great discussion without me." He turned on his foot to leave, and Rhys felt his body freeze under him. In the six years that they had known each other, Nolan had never been this person, this cold, unfriendly, defensive person that stood before him.

"Wait, Nolan, look at this." Rhys brandished the letter in his direction, and he took it with a hesitant look on his face, which gradually turned to shock.

"But-but, this-this is bad! Someone's threatening you!" His voice was devoid of the defensive edge that it had moments ago, which allowed Rhys loosen up and relax more. "Is that the owl that delivered it?" Nolan was pointing to the whole where he had placed the tawny owl, which was now attempting to fly into the wall.

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, that's not a standard owl. That's a baby owl, probably from a farm who breeds owls. I had a cousin who owns one of them. They're usually in remote areas, in the middle of the country." He explained, to Emma's surprise. He saw her face, and the sneer slid back onto his face. "What? You don't think I was smart enough to put two things together? _Typical_." Before either Emma or Rhys could explain anything to him, he stalked down the stairs of the Owlery.

"I wonder why he's so angry." Emma whispered sadly. As Rhys thought back to every conversation he had with Nolan, he realized something. _Why hadn't I thought of it before?_


	14. What Happens Next?

AN: Hi, it's N! I don't know exactly how long I want this fic to be? In all honesty, I'm kind of just writing and seeing where it takes me. Hopefully, it won't be too long, but, ah, we'll see. Anyways, enjoy!

XIV

Victoire

Victoire nearly fainted as the rush of owls flew through the Great Hall. On Monday, she had simply paled a bit. On Tuesday and Wednesday, Agatha had told her she had turned completely green. On Thursday, she had felt a bit of bile come up her throat. Today, Friday, she nearly fainted as soon as she saw the sheet of feathered creatures cross the false sky of the Hall.

"Teddy's fine, Vic." Eli adjusted his glasses as he glanced up at the owls. "He's the strongest person I know." Victoire narrowed her eyes at him.

"You've never even met him." She replied, and he waved it off.

"I know. People say that to comfort, so I thought I would try it." He shrugged. "Don't worry, Victoire. I'm serious, Aurors are supposed to be tough, I'm sure Teddy's perfectly alright." He had been saying that all week, so Victoire didn't reply. Instead, she pulled out the piece of newspaper that she had kept in her pocket since she'd sent the letter to Teddy. The sneering, ugly faces of the three Death Eaters glared up at her, and it only made her angry. She didn't even know why she had kept the damn article in her pocket all week. The folds had flattened now, and it was on the verge of tearing. Tears clouded her eyes, and she almost didn't see the large, tawny owl that landed in Eli's bowl of eggs.

"Vic!" It jumped out and stuck its leg towards her. Victoire took it off, her hands shaking as she turned it over. The front of it had her name written in Teddy Lupin's looping handwriting, the one that she had never been more relieved to see. Ripping open the letter, Victoire pulled out a single sheet of parchment that had doodles all around the margins.

 _My dearest, dearest, Vicky,_

 _I'm so sorry, Vicky, I'm so sorry that I didn't write back. My friend, Martin, he was the trainee who was injured, so I've been splitting my time between St. Mungo's and the Auror office. But, I'M ALRIGHT! HOORAY FOR NOT DEAD TEDDY._

 _But, in all seriousness, I'm really sorry that I didn't write back immediately. I should have._

 _How're you? How's Hogwarts? Tell me everything._

 _LOVE,_

 _Teddy_

"He's okay!" She shrieked, just as Siobhan and Agatha slid into the bench next to her. "He's alright, he isn't hurt!"

"Yeah, we got that." Siobhan cocked her eyebrow up, while Agatha smiled, warmer than she had in weeks. "He's alright, that's wonderful." Victoire read through the letter over and over again until the words finally sink it. _Teddy. He's alright, he's better than alright, if he wrote this letter_. Even as she put the letter down and dug into her eggs, the weight seemed to lift from her chest.

"Hurry up!" Professor McGonagall snapped as she walked the length of the Gryffindor table. "Get to class, get to class. Victoire, come with me." She nearly jumped at the sound of her name. Her friends turned towards in the Headmistress.

"Professor?" She questioned, and the Headmistress gave Victoire a look that made her put down her spoon and stand up. "Um, what's going on?"

"Come with me, Weasley. Don't ask questions." She gave a pointed expression to her friends. "Grayson, Mór, Wells, get to class. I won't ask again." Eli frowned, but he would be the last person to ever cross a teacher. He hissed at the other two to follow him, and Siobhan shot Victoire a quizzical look as she walked away.

Victoire followed Professor McGonagall out of the Great Hall and up to the third floor, where two gargoyles were sitting. The Headmistress firmly said, "Cauldron Cakes!", and the two stone figures sprang apart from each other, revealing a spiral, stone staircase that apparently led to nowhere. As they stepped onto the first stair, the whole staircase turned, spiralling upwards. They spun for several seconds until they reached a grand door that presumably led to the Headmistress's office. McGonagall pushed it open.

Victoire was standing in the entrance of a large, circular room, with portraits of old headmasters lining the walls. Silver instruments were sitting on spindle-legged tables, faintly whirring and humming. One of them was emitting a particularly foul-looking, green substance. Complete with a claw-footed table and a bookshelf stocked with every sort of tome one could possibly imagine, the Headmistress's office was one of the most beautiful rooms Hogwarts had to offer. Victoire's body was still brimming with nervous, terrifying energy that only increased when she saw her father standing in the corner, along with Dominique and Louis.

"Dad? Dom? Lou? What's going on?" She asked, looking anxiously between the three of them. "Professor?" The Headmistress's usually hard eyes were glistening slightly.

"V-Victoire," Bill Weasley's voice cracked, "your mother, she's missing."

"What?" The relief that had come with Teddy's safety soon turned to utter anxiety. Tears flooded her eyes, and her fingers began to shake. "What happened?" The Headmistress adjusted her glasses before explaining.

"Your mother, as you know, can be called in from time to time to help out the British and French Ministry whenever they need an extra Auror." She slowly started, and Victoire nodded along. "The French Ministry called her to help with the, ah, _situation_ in Azkaban, and she was the only Auror who didn't return back to the mainland."

"She's still alive, right? I mean, you didn't find her body, right?" Victoire asked, rather aggressively. Louis let out a whimper as he leaned against his father. The Headmistress sighed, pushing a folded copy of today's _Daily Prophet_ towards her. Picking it up, Victoire flipped it open to reveal a large, moving picture of a silvery-haired woman in bright, blue robes. She looked stunning, as she did in every photograph, but Victoire's _Maman_ had a hint of mystery and elegance hidden behind her blue eyes. Beneath her picture was a large, bold caption that read, **AUROR MISSING IN ACTION: FLEUR WEASLEY (DELACOUR)**.

The paper slipped out of Victoire's hands, which went up to cover her mouth in shock. Her body backed up against one of the spindle-legged table, while a silver instrument slid to the floor and smashed into bits and pieces. Several of the portraits on the wall screamed out in protest, and Armando Dippet even shouted, "Not that! By Merlin, why do children always do this?"

"Victoire, Dominique, Louis, the three of you are allowed to take some weeks often. Perhaps, until Christmas?" She suggested. "You would be excused from all of your classes. Dominique, Louis, I'll speak to Professor Flitwick if you are planning on leaving."

"I'm staying." Victoire announced, more confidently than she actually felt. "This is my last year, so I'll stay. Dom, Lou?" Her siblings had a silent conversation with their eyes that ended with them nodding in agreement.

"We'll stay." Dominique said. "We want to stay."

"That's, well, that." Professor McGonagall clasped her hands together. "Victoire, why don't you walk Dominique and Louis back to the Ravenclaw dormitory?" It was a clear invitation for them to get out so the Headmistress could talk to their father, but Victoire took it up all the same. The three of them exited the office, silent all the way up to the seventh floor. Just as she took the turn towards the Ravenclaw common room, she heard a small whimper come from Louis' direction. He ruffled his blonde hair and wiped a tear that was running down his face.

"Lou, it'll be alright, okay?" Dominique wrapped her arm around his shoulder. The two of them stopped in front of the door to the Ravenclaw dormitories, and Victoire waved. She could barely keep the tears from coming down her own face.

 _Her mother_. The woman who used to wipe Victoire's tears and make her a cup of tea whenever things had gone horribly wrong. The woman who had continued to tell her that her true beauty came from her head, and that intelligence was far more powerful than looks. The woman who had unconditionally loved her.

Missing. Gone. Maybe even dead. Victoire tried not to let her mind wander to the more horrible of conclusions and, instead, to the question that seemed to hang over her head all the time now.

 _What happens next?_


	15. Professor Picquery's Surprise

XV

Rhys

 _Mark this year as the year of death, for you will join your mother in taking the last breath. The words circled around his head in loops, like an owl carrying a letter. Mark this year as the year of death, for you will join your mother in taking the last breath. Rhys was wandering through the MACUSA building in New York, though he had never actually been there. He saw women and men in robes of lilac and azure walking with thick folders filled with files beside him, and it was after a few minutes that he realize he was lying in the middle of the extensive hallway. There was a person at the other end of it, wearing a mask that greatly resembled a snake's head. He tried to crawl forwards, but he couldn't seem to move. Suddenly, everything went black, and he was scrambling around in the dark for several moments until . . ._

Rhys woke up with a start in his sweaty cranberry sheets. He stared around at the circular dormitory, which was bathed in the glow of moonlight streaming through the glass windows. It was still dark, presumably the middle of the night, and the rest of this sixth year boys were sleeping soundly. He held his fingers up in front of him, and they were quivering ever so slightly. Pressing them against the edge of the bed, Rhys pushed himself off the bed and silently walked to the middle of the room to get a glass of water. He heard Nolan's snores, mixed with the light breathing of everybody else in the dormitory.

As he picked up the glass and took a sip, he saw the piece of parchment that he had received weeks ago, though it felt like he had just opened that letter yesterday. Leaning over, Rhys picked it up and read through it again and once more. The single line still made him shudder, even though it had been weeks. He looked outside again, as his dormitory offered a nice view of the forests nearby. In the interest of getting some fresh air, he opened the window. The November air bit and pierced at his sweaty skin, but it felt refreshing.

Rhys turned to look at the forests and saw some of the trees swaying, as though they were being pushed by heavy winds. Oddly enough, the air outside was biting cold, but it wasn't windy enough for the trees to be moving this strongly. Just as he leaned his head out to see if there was any wind, he saw a dark figure rising up out of trees. It wasn't corporeal, like a Patronus. It was more like a wave of dark mist or smoke coming out of the forest in a long, thick column. It flew upwards and spread out across the top of the forest, like someone had laid out a blanket.

Then, it disappeared. _Poof,_ gone, as though it had never even been there in the first place.

Rhys stumbled backwards, smacking his leg against his four-poster bed. Nolan's snores stopped abruptly, which made Rhys slide back under the covers and stop making noise. He soon fell asleep, but the thought of the black mist kept clouding his head.

"And, you saw a black mist?" Emma waved a fork in Rhys's face, and he leaned his head backwards to narrowly avoid the utensil. "And, it went over the forest."

"Yes, Ems, we've been over this. Multiple times. I saw the mist coming up in a column, and it spread flat over the top of the trees." Rhys said to him as he took a bit of his eggs. To his right, Nolan was playing with his food and throwing dirty looks in the direction of Rhys's eggs. "Nolan, you okay?"

"Yeah? What's it to you?" He slammed his spoon into the bowl of porridge, grabbed his bag, and hurried out of the hall. Rhys's eyebrows knitted together.

"What's wrong with him? He's been weird for weeks now." Nolan had been ignoring Rhys, unless absolutely necessary, and whenever the trio were together, he would skulk. Emma, in the process of putting her books away, cleared her throat. "Emma? What's going on?"

"Um, that might have to do with me." She said in a small voice, which was very unlike Emma in general. "He, uh, he, um, he kissed me." Rhys nearly fell out of his chair.

"He wha-?" Emma stood up and gestured for him to follow her out of the hall. Margaux Martel and Hank Fisk were standing near the entrance, laughing about something. Upon seeing Rhys, Margaux waved them over.

"Professor Picquery asked me to give this to you." She held out a folded piece of parchment with his name in looping cursive on the front, and he took it, slightly apprehensive. As he flicked it open, he saw just one small paragraph in the same, curving handwriting.

 _Rhys,_

 _I hope you are doing well. Personally, I have a little bit of a cold, but I'm sure it shall pass. Anyways, I have been quite concerned with the currently state of our school. Perhaps, we are due for a chat? Come by my office at eight this evening. It's near the staff room on the third floor._

 _I've been infatuated with Acid Pops lately._

 _Professor Joan Picquery_

"That's amazing, Rhys!" Emma gushed as soon as she finished reading the letter. Margaux gave her a knowing look and left with Hank. "You get a private lesson with the Headmistress!" She sounded far more excited than Rhys felt. _What if she asked him to do spells that he wasn't able to do?_

"Yeah." He weakly replied, pocketing the letter. As they headed up the staircases towards Charms, Rhys remembered their previous conversation. "So, what happened with Nolan, again?" Red patches appeared on Emma's face, and she fiddled with the pages in her book.

"He kissed me, and I suppose, I, uh, didn't mind it all that much." Emma admitted, and Rhys gently nudged her elbow. "But, I think he saw us in the owlery, and he thought that I was abandoning him."

This became far too dramatic for Rhys.

"Seriously? That's why he's been so weird?" The pair of them jumped the trick stair onto the fourth floor and turned into the Charms classroom. Emily was already sitting near the back of the classroom, talking to a couple of Horned Serpents. "That makes absolutely no sense."

"Oh, don't ask me to explain Nolan's brain." Emma replied, rolling her eyes. She took a seat next to Emily, while Rhys sat down behind them. "Can you talk to him, please?"

"Oooh, about the kiss?" Emily turned around, grinning. "Emma told me about that."

"Why does everybody know about that, but me?" Rhys complained. Just as he was about to ask more questions, Nolan came stomping into the classroom. He slammed his books down on the desk next to Rhys and sat down, putting his chin down on the desk.

"Hey, Nolan!" Rhys said. It came out brighter than he had anticipated, and it just sounded rather desperate. "What's up?"

"Nothing." He grunted.

"Excited for Charms?"

"Who would be excited for Charms?"

"Er … true." Rhys said. Professor Macintosh came into the classroom and promptly began to yell instructions at everybody, which Rhys had trouble paying attention to. His mind kept going back to the Dungbomb that Emma had let out during breakfast. _The two of them had kissed. What if it ruined their friendship? What if they aren't right for each other, and they break up next year, and I'm stuck in the middle of all of it?_ His thoughts kept spiraling around each other, and they didn't go away, even when Professor Macintosh bewitched a cushion to hit him in the stomach.

"Pay attention, Mr. Grayson, or I shall be forced to give you a detention!"

"Nolan, I'm not interested in Emma." Rhys had been contemplating exactly how to say this sentence for the past hour, and it had been ruining his Charms essay one sentence at a time. He had had to scratch out multiple sentences in the last ten minutes alone. So, he just decided to spit it out. "I'm not, and I guess that's why you've been ignoring us."

"You-what?" He sputtered as he looked up from his homework. The two of them were sitting at a table in the common room during one of their breaks. Since the commons were fairly empty during the middle of the day, Rhys had no problems having this conversation here. "Did Emma figure all that out?"

"Well, yeah, that's a given." Rhys said, and the two of them burst into an awkward laughter. "I'm not interested in Emma. In fact, I don't even like girls that way."

"Right, yeah." Nolan casually replied as he crossed out something on his paper. "I mean, I wasn't mad at you or anything, that would be ridiculous."

"Completely ridiculous." Rhys noted that he seemed considerably more cheerful and warm.

"Wait, did I tell you? My no-maj cousins found some of my Exploding Snap cards at home and burned off his eyebrow when he dropped them!" Nolan said, and Rhys found himself genuinely laughing for the first time in weeks.

"Your parents still haven't let you tell them you're a wizard, I take it?" replied Rhys, to which his friend nodded through his laughter. "Merlin's beard, I would _kill_ to see your cousin's face."

"Hi?" Emma sat down in the chair next to Nolan, and Rhys couldn't help but picture the two of them walking hand in hand down the street of Grey Peaks. "Are we all good here?"

"Yeah, better than alright, Ems. We're completely fine." Rhys casually replied, and he could almost see the relief written in her face. She put her bag on the table and pulled out all of her schoolbooks, of which there were many.

"Did you tell him about the letter from the Headmistress?" Emma asked, and Rhys rifled through his bag until he found the folded piece of parchment.

"What's it about?" Nolan's eyes widened as he read through the letter, and he had a rather large grin plastered on his face. "Wait, what does this line about Acid Pops mean?"

"I've got no idea." Rhys shrugged. "What do you think I'm going to have to do?"

"She's probably going to teach you high level magic! Ooh, what if she teaches you a dangerous potion?" There was a certain glint in Emma's eyes that made Rhys and Nolan raise their eyebrows in a familiar way. "Don't look at me like that." She started violently writing on her piece of parchment.

"We have Quidditch practice tonight, guys!" Emery announced as she walked past their table. Rhys groaned, laying his head down on the table. "Grayson, problem?"

"It's just, I have a meeting with the Headmistress this evening." Rhys explained, while Emery had a silent fit. "I'm really sorry." She dropped her head in her hands.

"Grayson, I booked the pitch just for us today! Are you _trying_ to make us lose the Quidditch Cup?" She shouted at him, which caught the attention of most of the Thunderbird common room. A couple of seventh years sniggered in their direction.

"Ms. Tsukuda!" Professor Constantin came striding into the classroom, her black robes billowing behind her. "What are you doing?"

"Professor, he's bailing on Quidditch practice tonight! We're going to lose the Cup if he doesn't get his act together." Constantin turned towards Rhys, her dark eyes narrowing with a slight distaste.

"Mr. Grayson," Her word was dripping with even more distaste. "is this true?"

"Professor, I have a meeting with the Headmistress." He explained, and her eyes seemed to search into his very soul. Nodding slowly, she seemed to understand.

"Ah, well, in that case," Constantin turned towards Emery, her smile clearly less than friendly. "Ms. Tsukuda, may I ask that you keep your yelling to the Quidditch pitch next time? I believe the Headmistress's appointments are far more important than your own."

"Sorry, Professor." Emery grumbled, and the Professor nodded curtly.

"Students, listen up!" Constantin's voice carried throughout the common room. She stalked towards the notice board near the entrance and brandished several sheets of paper. "Professor Picquery has asked me to pass on two important messages. Apparition lessons are beginning for sixth years, and you may also sign up for tests here if you are taking the test this year. These sign-ups are if you're interested in visiting, ah, _Hogwarts_ during May. The teachers will be reviewing the candidates for moral integrity. Thank you." As she left through the wooden door, Rhys had the feeling that 'moral integrity' wasn't the only thing they would be looking for.

Emma practically rushed out of her seat with a quill to sign her name on two of the sheets. Rhys and Nolan shrugged at each other and slowly went up to join the slowly increasing crowd. "Do you think Apparition is all that it's cracked up to be?" Nolan nervously asked, while Rhys stared blankly at the Hogwarts sign-up sheet. _Emma Kaur_ was written neatly at the top of it, and the girl herself was about as excited as a first-year discovering magic for the first time.

"Dunno if it'll beat the broom." Rhys replied, and the two of them sniggered. "I'll sign up for that." He reached up to add his name to the long list of sixth years who wanted to learn Apparition. The Hogwarts list was comparatively shorter, with only several names on it.

"Count me in." Nolan said. Rhys was about to put his name on the Hogwarts list when he subconsciously paused. Britain meant St. Mungo's.

And, St. Mungo's never meant well.

"Rhys, aren't you going to put your name down?" Emma pointedly asked, gesturing to where his hand was frozen in midair. "You don't have to, if you don't want. But, I mean, it is a great opportunity." Her voice had this edge to it, as if challenging him to put his name on the list. He almost did, for just a second, but then he remembered his mother. His eyes slid towards her portrait on the wall, who was giving a miniature Charms class to a group of glazed-eyed third years. She was so happy and full of life, but it wasn't real. It was just a spell.

 _Mom isn't here. She never will be._

"Um, I think I'll pass on it." Rhys weakly replied, shaking himself out of his stupor. To his side, his friend looked incredibly skeptical. "Nolan, you?"

"I'll go for it." He sounded far more hesitant than he looked. A triumphant grin bursted onto Emma's face, and she signed his name up on the list. "Oh, that's the bell. We better get going." The trio hurried to grab their stuff and head out of the common room.

"Oh, look who it is! I didn't notice you without the stupid grin, Caldwell." To Rhys's disappointment, Harrison was leaning against the banister of the stairs, a wicked grin on his face. To his right was another dark-haired individual, one that Rhys had been very glad not to see around the hallways. "Did you miss Topher?"

Christopher Deimos snarled at the three of them, crossing his arms. He was dark, brooding, and not in a good way. He was always looking downwards, and his long, dark hair always covered one (or both) of his eyes. There had been rumors about him, rumors that claimed his parents had worked with dark wizards in the past. Many parents even clamored to have Topher thrown out of the school, but MACUSA and the board of school governors had quickly shut it down.

"Obviously not." Emma replied, simply and quickly. "And, we need to get to class." She pushed past the two of them, which was far braver than anything Rhys and Nolan had to offer. They followed closely behind her, down the stairs and onto the sixth floor.

"Merlin's beard, the guy scares the _hell_ out of me." Nolan said. "What's he doing back here?"

"Yeah, I thought his parents pulled him out of school or moved or something, that's why he wasn't here for the first couple months of school." added Rhys as they hurried into Defense. Emily waved them over to a desk in the corner.

"Did you see? Topher's back!" Nolan said as he slid into the seat next to her. Eyes widening, Emily looked both excited and utterly terrified. Rhys and Emma sat down and leaned in to listen.

"Merlin, he terrifies me." Emily echoed the same sentiment that Nolan had. "What if he wasn't here because his parents took him to some dark arts ritual? You know, like-"

"Okay, that's definitely a lie." Emma countered, and just as Emily started to argue, Professor Constantin burst through the door, silencing them all.

"Alright, see you soon?" Rhys was standing in front of Emma and Nolan, looking at his watch. It was about ten minutes before he had planned to go to the Headmistress's office, and he was more nervous than ever, though he had no idea why.

The common room around them was filled to the brim. Rain was pelting down outside, which made it far too cold to sit on the grounds. Fanged Frisbees were flying above them, and a couple of third years kept lighting their homework on fire.

"It'll be fun, c'mon!" Emma assured him, and Nolan nodded. He looked rather pale. "Go, or you'll be late." Sticking his hand in his pocket, Rhys pulled out the letter from the Headmistress

"Okay." He took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the common room. He passed the Thunderbirds who were just coming back from dinner, and a rather odd selection of Horned Serpents, all of whom were carrying Potions books and talking rapidly. Rhys gripped the letter and moved past them.

The staircases were filled, so it took him a while to navigate his way down to the third floor, where Professor Picquery's office and the staff room both were. The only people that came down the hallway were teachers, who all gave Rhys strange looks, as though he weren't supposed to be there.

Finally, he had reached the end of the hallway, where there was a large, stone doorway. The door itself was flanked by two large, stone sculptures of Pukwudgies. At this point, Rhys didn't know what to do. He tried to go around the animals, but they moved to block him. In the end, he just ended up shoving his fists into his pocket in frustration. His fingers met the letter that the Headmistress had given him, and he pulled it out to reread it again. He didn't remember any instructions on how to get into her office.

 _I've been infatuated with Acid Pops lately_.

 _Well, it's worth a shot_.

"Acid Pops!" He said, and the Pukwudgies immediately sprang apart. "Wow, that actually worked." He muttered. As he went through the animals, the door opened by itself, leading to a set of tarnished gold stairs. Rhys stepped onto them, and it began to spiral upwards until it reached another doorway, one that didn't open on its own. Rhys knocked twice, and he heard a twinkling voice saying, "Come in, then!"

Rhys pushed open the door to reveal a circular room covered in bookshelves and rickety, wooden staircase with silver instruments sitting atop them. The Headmistress herself was standing behind her desk, which was covered in all sorts of strange things: a bowl of lemon drops, a stack of MACUSA minutes that Emma also owned, and numerous teacups and saucer sets. She smiled gently down at him. "Mr. Grayson! It's a pleasure to see you. Do sit down." She gestured to the wooden chairs sitting in front of the desk. Rhys sat down in one of them, anxiously tapping his fingers against his knee. "If you don't mind me asking, how is your mother?"

"She's alright. Um, I don't think her condition has changed, Professor." He replied. "Er … not to be rude, but what exactly am I doing here, Professor?" The Headmistress sat down in her tall-backed chair behind the desk and popped a lemon drop into her mouth.

"Would you like one?"

"What?"

"A lemon drop. Would you care for one? They're a no-maj delight, but I quite enjoy them." She held out the yellow candy. Rhys shook his head. "All right, then. Well, you're wondering why I asked you here. You remember attack of Ms. Lewis?" He nodded.

"I thought it was an accident." He replied. The Headmistress smiled in a way that made him feel a lot like a child. "It wasn't?"

"In a manner of speaking." Professor Picquery pulled something out of her desk drawer.

Rhys nearly had a heart attack at the sight of it.


	16. Danger in the Wrong Hands

XVI

Victoire

"Ready?" Siobhan pulled her bag over her shoulder, then turned to Agatha, Eli, and Victoire. The four of them were heading out for their first Hogsmeade weekend of the year, which happened to be in the middle of November. They were bundled up in cloaks, hats, and scarves, as the air was becoming chillier by the day. "Victoire, are you alright?"

Victoire was sitting in a cushioned chair near the fire, her eyes glazed over. Her cloak and scarf were draped over her, and she was fingering her gloves between her fingers, unable to find the energy to put them on. "Hm? Oh, just thinking." Her voice was weak.

 _Just like the rest of her_ , she thought. "Victoire, why don't we get going? It'll be good for you to get some fresh air." They had been treating her as though she were made of glass for the past several weeks, and it had become rather wearing. Siobhan thought her child-like sense of excitement and wonder at everything might help Victoire, but even her best friend couldn't do it.

"Yeah," She replied, rising from the chair. "Let's go." Together, they headed out of the Gryffindor commons and followed the rather large group of students heading out of the castle. All of them were wearing their house-colored scarves, along with cloaks over their robes and hats atop their head.

"Merlin's beard, this is going to take ages," Agatha groaned as soon as they saw the even larger crowd heading down the stairs. Everybody was talking and laughing amongst one another, which possibly made the problem even worse. The crowd, in short, wasn't moving at all.

"We'll never get to Zonko's at this rate," Siobhan muttered, to which Eli kicked her in the leg. "Ow! What was that for?" They never actually found out what it was for, as the Headmistress made her way into the crowded staircase, yelling.

"Out of the way, children! Out of the way, I said! Boot, out of my way." Her teeth were gritted as she hurried towards the top of the last staircase. "Students! As you can very clearly see, our trip to Hogsmeade is getting slightly delayed. Unfortunately, there has been a complication that has paused our trip. As we do go into the village, I urge all of you to be vigilant and alert as you can possibly be. Remember, our first concern is for your safety. Off you go, now!" Just as she stopped talking, the crowd began to move quickly down the staircases and across the halls.

"Finally!" Siobhan shouted, alarming several of the other students, and Victoire silently herded the third years down the stairs. They followed the groups until they reached the entrance hall, where some of the teachers were standing. Victoire felt the sudden urge to laugh as she saw some of them shivering in the November air. For some odd reason, she found it strange that people of power would be doing such a powerless thing as shivering. Then, her mind wandered to the possibility of her mother shivering in some cold, horrible place like Azkaban. _What if these dark wizards have taken over Azkaban? What if, what if my mother is there?_ She suddenly tried to picture Fleur Weasley shivering and helpless, but she could not. Her _maman_ was not a woman to be easily shaken.

When they finally walked into the village, students were already going wild. A group of fourth years were trying to convince each other to eat less than appealing candy from Honeydukes, while a set of Slytherin students were daring each other to go into the Shrieking Shack. Victoire busied her mind with the stories of the Shrieking Shack that Uncle Ronald liked to tell at Christmas.

"Where to first, then?" Agatha asked, shivering slightly. She had a smile on her face, which made Victoire feel relieved. Astoria's condition was slowly restoring, and Madam Pomfrey had even said that she was starting to speak again.

"How about Zonko's?" Siobhan eagerly suggested, to which the rest of them shrugged. Agatha wrapped her elbow around Victoire's and pulled her gently.

"Vic, let's try to have fun, alright?" She said kindly, and Victoire nodded. Eli patted her on the shoulder as they turned into the joke shop. "Ooh, the Wonder Witch products are in!"

The inside of Zonko's was a barrage of color against Victoire's eyes. Bright packaging that covered every sort of prank or joke toy could be seen, and the entire shop was packed to the brim with students. In fact, it seemed odd that it was so crowded. Zonko's was a popular place, but Victoire couldn't recall a time when it was that busy. As though she had read her mind, Agatha nudged a younger student with brown pigtails. "What's with the crowd, El?"

"George and Ron Weasley are coming!" She said excitedly. A chorus of shouts erupted around her, as though the names of Victoire's uncles had caused them. "They're introducing some more products today."

"Right," Agatha replied. A surge of hope burst into Victoire. If her uncles had come, maybe they had some news about her mother.

"How did you not know? It's been all over the Gryffindor notice board for weeks now!" The girl exclaimed in disbelief. She turned her back on them to focus on the middle of the shop, where the students had left a bit of space unoccupied.

Victoire turned to look at her friends, but the only person she saw was Agatha, still gripping her arm. She looked slightly worried about something, but she didn't say anything. "Have you seen those poster?" She gestured out towards the shop across the street, where a large poster of the three, wanted Death Eaters was posted. They leered at passerbyers, and some students even crossed to the other side of the street to avoid it. "Look next to it."

"Right." Victoire leaned backwards to look at a smaller poster next to it, and she felt a slight pang in her chest. It was a blonde-haired witch in her early forties: Fleur Weasley. Her picture was above a set of words that declared her missing in action. It was in the same style as the wanted poster next to it, which meant that it was definitely made by the Ministry. She was grateful that they were doing something, but whatever it was they were doing didn't seem like enough. Emotions coursed through her, but none of them were strong enough to make her say anything to Agatha.

"Look, look!" Siobhan and Eli appeared from the crowd behind them, the former pointing towards the center of the room. Through all the shouting and screaming, Victoire hadn't heard the two owners of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes Apparate into Zonko's. Her Uncle George stood next to his younger brother, Uncle Ron, and they were waving at the crowd in front of them. Their voices, magically manipulated, echoed throughout the packed joke shop.

"Welcome troublemakers!" George shouted, pointing his wand up into the air. It created a shower of sparks that turned out to spell "POO!" in the air. The entire room laughed at the juvenile jokes, and it even had Victoire giggling to herself. They proceeded into a small show where they showcased different products and pranks for half an hour. It was entertaining, and Victoire found herself actually smiling for the first time today.

"Ah, Victoire!" George found his way through the thinning crowd to her group of friends. Ron stood behind him, looking awkward. She grinned and hugged each of them in turn. "Harry wanted me to tell you that his team of Aurors is working around the clock to look for her. It's their top priority, I believe." She tried to look relieved, but it clearly wasn't working.

"Seriously, don't worry, Vic." Ron gently patted her on the shoulder. "Fleur is, er, the, ah, _toughest_ woman I've ever met." He was the only person who had said that to her that seemed genuine, though it might have been because he actually knew Fleur.

"I know," Victoire replied, and he gave her another hug. "I know that. Have you talked to Dad?"

"Yeah, Bill sent us all owls after it happened. Damn shame." Ron replied, shaking his head. "Hermione's been working 'round the clock. The Ministry will find her, don't you worry."

"Thank you," She replied, though she wasn't entirely convinced. Not worrying was difficult. "Um, we're going to go to the Three Broomsticks. Are you coming?"

"Thanks, but no thanks. We only came down because Zonko's insisted. We need to get back and help out with Bill and the search." Uncle George replied, so Victoire waved goodbye to them and followed her friends out of the shop and onto the streets, where students were spilling out of other pubs and shops.

"Butterbeers, then?" Eli suggested, adjusting his glasses.

"Yes!" Agatha's arm was still wrapped around Victoire's elbow, so she pulled the girl in the direction of the Three Broomsticks. The glass was fogged up from the warmth of the drinks inside, and the front door was plastered with missing posters of Fleur Weasley. Students were pointing at both the poster and Victoire, whispering behind their hands as a pang went through her heart. She pushed into the pub, and the four of them found a cozy booth in the back of the pub, away from prying eyes. Agatha slipped out of her elbow and hurried to the bar, where Madam Rosmerta was serving teachers and students. She brightly outshone the lanterns in her sparkling green robes as she slid a drink across the table to Professor McGonagall and Professor Longbottom. They nodded to one another, and the three of them hurried off towards the back room, which was right next to the toilets.

"I've got to go use the loo," Victoire said to Siobhan and Eli, who were deep in conversation with each other. She walked past a group of noisy Slytherins who sneered at her as she stepped into the back hallway. The door was just closing as Victoire hunched next to it, as though she were simply on her way to the toilets. She could distinctly hear the voices of the professors and Rosmerta inside, and, by their tone, it didn't sound pretty.

"Rosmerta, have you heard anything?" Professor McGonagall asked, whom Victoire could see seating herself on one of the chairs through the blurred glass.

"My, my, you're getting right to the point."

"Well, of course we're getting to the point, Madam Rosmerta!" Professor Longbottom said, though he didn't seem entirely sure of herself. "Fleur has gone missing! We haven't got time to, well, make time."

"Alright, alright," She replied gently. "I have heard a little bit of chatter here and there, but, oh, I could never take it as fact."

"What do you mean?" McGonagall asked, taking a sip of her drink.

"Well, there were some Aurors that came to the bar the other day, you know the sort, and they were a wee bit drunk, but they let slip that they could be holding her in Azkaban." A chorus of gasps accompanied her statement, and someone even stuttered a little bit.

"You can't be serious! Aren't the Aurors there? Ministry officials?" Longbottom protested. "What about all the other prisoners?"

"They may have killed them, dumped their bodies into the sea, or they could have simply transfigured them into other objects," The Headmistress said, and Victoire could hear the Madam Rosmerta cough into her drink. "Azkaban has been our prison for years. It's safe, but only in the right hands. If three prisoners can escape, there can be no doubt that the place has fallen into the wrong sort of people."

"Minerva, really!" Rosmerta replied. "That seems a little harsh."

"Well, these are Death Eaters we're talking about, Rosmerta. Nothing I say is harsh." Professor Longbottom grunted in agreement, and the three of them took gulps of their drinks. Victoire leaned against the wall, and she could see her fingers shaking under her cloak. Their conversation slowly turned into a mindless hum in her ears, and she decided to slip away into the bathroom after a Hufflepuff gave her a strange look for hunching outside of the door.

The cracked and dusty mirrors reflected Victoire's pale face as she hunched over the sink, and her deep breaths echoed through the empty bathroom. She felt her heart race as she thought about her _Maman_ sitting in Azkaban, a place she didn't deserve to be in. Anger kicked it, and Victoire ended up stubbing her toe against the bottom of the sink. She cried out in frustrated and closed her eyes for just a moment, as though trying to close herself off from the world.

"Hello, sweetheart," A skin-crawling voice whispered into her ear, and Victoire didn't even have time to scream before she was grabbed and Apparated out of the Three Broomsticks.


End file.
